Song Cycle
by Dianne la Mercenaire
Summary: An angsty H/C M/M piece that just kept going...
1. How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?

# "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?"

**WARNING LABEL: (for those who don't want to read my rambling and just want the story) G-rated M/M angsty monologue... with a few strong words, I guess.**

* * *

_Well it finally happened. My Muse returned full-force, and I went from struggling for over a week to make the slightest progress on one story to spilling out a whole piece this morning before lunch. Not only that, but I've got five or six more ideas floating around in my head... they kept coming up as I was writing this. _

And now I'm trying to remember _why_ I wanted my Muse back so much...  ;-) 

Anyway, this is a Song Challenge piece-- a disclaimer which probably makes sense only to my fellow FKFIC-L people. I guess people write around song lyrics in every fandom, but on the FK lists it was easily the longest and most prolific standing "story challenge" ever offered. I wrote four or five of them myself, and the serious ones were much the same kind of angst-fest and emotional dumping that this is. What can I say, at least I'm consistent. 

For all I love the great slash that's been posted to these lists, I didn't think I'd be writing any of it myself somehow. Guess it was inevitable, though. WARNING: Basically M/M in theme, but no action, leaving it at I guess a G (with a few strong words). It's a downer, the kind of stuff that I usually don't read much of because I get too depressed. So, how did I write it? I have a perverse Muse, what can I say? ;-) 

No, really. I could write it because it's not finished... at least not in my head. It's only the hurt part of the h/c, but there's comfort in the future somewhere in my mind, so I'm o.k. (Goddess, I'm such a sap! ;-) I may even get around to writing it someday, you never know. Song Challenges tend to do that to me. 

O.K., you all know the drill-- I don't own them, they just started talking in my head. No harm or trespass intended. If I could make money off this, I'd be rich, but if you can actually find anything I possess worth suing for, you're doing a lot better than I am. 

Any errors are mine, my Muse denies all responsibility. Feel free to laugh at my geography and travel plans... this is the best 45 mins on the web could do for me. 

Now, here we go... (is anyone still with me?) 

* * *

# "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?"

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

_ *I couldn't believe it, when I heard the news today...*_

A note. A note on my damn desk! I come back after another pointless, fruitless chase after some lead that went nowhere and I find this lying on my desk. "Const. Fraser called. No ride home today," and the scribbled initials of the desk sergeant. 

You know my first thought was to apologize? A sudden pang of guilt that I'd missed lunch chasing down that damned snitch and you were punishing me. It was gone in a second-- utterly ridiculous. You would never be that petty. It could be any one of a number of things-- off early, leaving late, running errands. Anything at all. 

Besides, you would never realize how easy it would be to punish me if you wanted to. 

_ *I had to come and get it straight from you.*_

So I called the Consulate. I don't know why. It was silly, I mean it's not like you need looking after, like you have to check in with me when you change plans. But I still call right up without a thought and with a certain righteousness, as if you were AWOL or breaking curfew or something. It's not like you owe me any explanations. 

All right, I lied. I know exactly why I did it. But that doesn't really matter now, does it? 

_ *They said you were leaving, someone swept your heart away...*_

Paulatuk? Where the hell is that, Benny? Somewhere back out in the middle of your beloved ice and snow, huh? You've always wanted to go home. You hide it under that professional courtesy, that goddamned, stubborn Mountie stoicism. You've never said a single word, but I can see it, you know. I can see the way you're always pining away for the Frozen North. For a place where you fit in perfectly, where everything around makes sense to you. Where no one teases you or stares or rolls their eyes when you start tasting or smelling or telling Inuit stories.... 

Dammit, Benny, don't you think I know that? 

Linda, huh? I barely remember her, wouldn't remember her if you hadn't spoken of her those few times. Leave it for you to be that understated about a budding romance. I didn't even see it coming. Or did I just not want to believe it could happen? 

Linda. A little mouse hiding in her apartment from that twisted sonofabitch landlord, hiding from the terrors of the big wild city too. She didn't belong here either-- is that what drew you two together? I can see how miles of empty snow would be a relief for her. I bet she could live her whole life that way, miles of nothingness... and you. 

You know, Ovitz is a real gossip. The Dragon Lady should call him on the carpet and chew his ass for that sometime. 

_ *...And from the look upon your face I see it's true.*_

"Ray!" 

You know, for someone who hides their emotions away so carefully from all the world, I can read you like a book. The genuine surprise at seeing me at the door, turning almost instantly to pleasure. That much, at least has changed. Your face is so open now anyone could read it. But could anyone else see the pleasure at seeing me slip right into the greater pleasure of the news you have to tell? 

And would anyone else's heart tear itself apart at the sight? 

_ *So tell me all about it, tell me 'bout the plans you're makin'*_

It only takes a bare word or two and you're off and running, bubbling over with news and plans-- a plane to Yellowknife, another to Inuvik, then to Paulatuk... probably by dogsled or something, I'm not even listening. For once I don't even feel any urge to shut you up. 

_ *Tell me one thing more before I go:*_

It's probably the most horrible thing I've ever consciously done. 

Shooting you on that train platform, at least that was an accident. A split-second and the world fell apart before I even knew what was happening. But this, this I'm doing to myself. 

Or am I? I can't move. I don't think I can survive hearing how happy you are, how perfect your life will be. Yet I can't leave. The words pass over me like water, burning me with just their tone of pure joy-- and yet I can't get enough. This is it, and I know it. Soon -- far, far too soon-- you will be gone and I won't be able to torture myself like this. Ever again. 

And I'm afraid it'll kill me. 

_ *Tell me how am I supposed to live without you?*_

Do you even realize how completely you've become a part of my life? No, I bet you don't. You weren't here to see my life before, to see how empty it was, how meaningless it all felt. 

And I thought I was even more a part of your life. You said once I was your best friend, and that was way back, long before the triumphs and the losses, the pain and the death, and the near-death more times than I can even count and the ridiculous leads that made no sense and somehow panned out anyway. 

Or was it only by default? Was I your best friend because you had no one else? You do now. Was all the time we spent together some kind of duty with you? Some kind of debt you felt you owed me for taking you in when you first arrived? For trying to explain this bizarre new world to you? 

Oh no, God, please, Benny..... It was more than that. It _has_ to have been. 

_ *Now that I've been lovin' you so long*_

Love is a monstrous thing, Benny. Look at what Victoria did with yours. You of all people should know that, no? 

I loved Irene, you know. I really did. If things had been different.... But they weren't, were they? And there's nothing that can change that. I loved Angie too, but not the way I should have. I loved her like a friend-- I still do. But not like a lover, not really. Par for the course with me, huh? I go and marry the one I should have kept a friend and stay just friends with.... 

Oh damn, Benny. 

_ *Too proud for cryin', didn't come here to break down,*_

So you go on packing and talking. It's not like there's all that much to take. But you, who can talk for hours on the minute properties of mud, are talking on and on about your new love, your new life, and I think maybe you'll never stop. 

I'm deathly afraid you will. 

Dief just lies there in the corner, head on his paws looking at me. He'll go with you, of course, but I catch his eye and I can tell that he sees what you don't. He won't interfere, he won't make a sound, but the sympathy in his eyes is enough to break my heart all over again. 

_ *It's just a dream of mine is comin' to an end.*_

And you just go on, oblivious. Like you always did when some gorgeous woman made a pass at you on sight. The few times you realized, you got all flustered, uncomfortable. Long before I realized what was happening, it gave me hope. Long before I could face the reasons why, your complete lack of coherent response was like a reassurance, a promise I wasn't going to lose you. 

Then there was Victoria 

_ *And how can I blame you, when I built my world around_  
_ The hope that one day we'd be so much more than friends?*_

That was when I faced it, you know. I had to. I sat there in the hospital for hours, days, while you were dying. Dying by my hand. 

I didn't know that kind of guilt and pain existed. 

By the time they were sure you would make it, the guilt was so familiar I could finally see through it. And what I saw should have scared the hell out of me, should have sent me running for cover, burying my emotions away where they would never see the light of day. But it didn't. I don't know if it was because I was so strung out, so emotionally raw, or if it was because somehow it was just so _right_. 

I remember sitting there in the hall after they told me you were out of danger. Ma and the girls were crying and hugging and praying and I just sat there for an endless second. It was as if everything stood still for a moment and I had all the time in the world. My first thought was a prayer, a gratitude so heartfelt it didn't even have words. Then I reached for words... and realized I didn't know what to say. 

"Thank you, God, for saving... my friend"? It seemed so inadequate. "My best friend"? Still it wasn't right. For that endless second I sat there trying to find a word that was strong enough, that would mean what I wanted to say. Had to say. Somehow I felt as if maybe if I didn't do it right, wasn't sincere enough, honest enough in my gratitude, you might be taken away again. 

That did it, you know. That thought nearly doubled me over, as numb as I thought I already was from the pain. "I love him, God." I just broke down babbling in my head. "I love him more than anything on this earth, please... I need him so bad." I thought my heart would break right there. 

I suppose it wasn't the brightest thing to do, huh? I realized that later, much later. But if I wasn't struck down by lightening right there and then, I guess I figured I was pretty much home free afterwards. 

_ *Now I don't want to know the price I'm gonna pay for dreamin'*_

It was only after you woke up that I realized what I'd done to myself. 

There was no way I could face you with this. Hell I didn't even know if you could ever forgive me enough to be friends again, much less anything more. Could there be anything more? I didn't even know what I wanted, I still don't.

All I know is what I knew then-- that ever losing you would probably kill me. 

_ *Even now it's more than I can bear.*_

I waited too long, huh? We managed to put that whole nightmare behind us and I was just gonna give us a little breathing room, a little recovery time. Make sure that everything was all right before.... 

Oh damn, I chickened out. 

I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to deal. I'm not sure if I was more scared to think you might reject me or that you might actually want me too. But we were back together and I saw you every day and it was enough. Enough at least for the moment. 

But the moment's gone. 

_ *Now I don't want to know the price I'm gonna pay for dreamin'*_

So what do I do now? Slap you on the back? Congratulate you? Offer to be best man? 

Oh God, I think I'd do it too... if only just to have the excuse to see you one more time. 

_ *Now that all of your dreams have come true.*_

The look of happiness on your face as you talk takes my breath away. Were you ever that happy here? 

I guess I should take this as a sign that there never was a chance. Take it as a gift from the heavens that I never tore up our friendship in a vain attempt to make it something more. I mean, come on: a nice girl just like you-- attractive, quiet, polite, a little shy-- who's happy to go back to the middle of nowhere and adore you for the rest of her life, a fairytale romance come true... 

...Or me? 

Dammit, God, the bolt of lightening would have been kinder. 

_ *How am I supposed to live without you?_  
_ And how am I supposed to carry on,_  
_ When all that I've been living for is gone?*  
_

__

* * *

Dianne  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"If we live through this, I think it'll be fun. If we don't live through it, for once it'll be *your* fault." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	2. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #2:

# The Beat Of A Different Drum

**WARNING: More G-rated M/M angsting. Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?"**

* * *

_O.K., here we go again. What can I say? My Muse is back and she's on speed.... _

Guess who's turn now?  Those who wrote to say how awful I was being to Ray in the last part were right. I've always done that-- I only attack the ones I love . I know, some consolation, huh? 

Anyway, this one was harder... Benny takes more convincing to spill like this. I'm not even sure that it really follows the song much at all, but the words did definitely act as a catalyst, so I'm leaving them in there. 

WARNING: More G-rated M/M angsting. Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", but probably can be read separately. Has a bit more resolution, but not much. If this works o.k., I'm sure y'all will beat me into writing more. I have no idea where this is going, I'm just along for the ride, guys. 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine; if they were I'd take better care of them. (Notwithstanding all evidence to the contrary ;-) No offense intended. I'm not making a cent off it and, if you count time, pain and suffering , and my ISP connection, I think TPTB owe *me* money on this... so let's just call it even, huh?) 

* * *

# The Beat Of A Different Drum

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

> _*You and I cotton to the beat of a different drum--*_

I could see it in your eyes, you know. 

That's why I couldn't, wouldn't look at them. 

It would never work. I have a life, don't you understand? A life outside of this city, this country. Sometimes I wonder if you even realise what I've left behind. 

How would you feel if it happened to you? Something took place beyond your control and suddenly doing the right thing meant everything went wrong? What if you lost your mother and chased her killer up into the Territories. And found him and _still_ managed to bring him to justice rather then ripping his throat out with your bare hands... and then found out that you couldn't go home? That Chicago didn't want you, that the force never wanted to see you again for what you'd done, and there was nothing that you could do but suck in the pain and the betrayal and try to wait them out, knowing perfectly well it might never happen? 

What if you might never see your family again? 

You think I don't have any family to lose, but it's not true. I have the snow and the mountains and the scent of a storm on the wind off the Arctic Ocean. You're right, I didn't have a family for so much of my life that I've made these my family. It's in them that I find comfort and peace and love and home. 

And if I stayed here with you I might never see them again. 

> _*Or can't you tell by the way I run,  
Every time you make eyes at me?*_

Linda. I keep trying to tell myself that I haven't used her, that somehow she knew all along. 

Oh, God. What have I done? 

It just began with talking, you know. I said something in passing about Tuktoyaktuk, fully expecting the confusion or the disbelief or the mirth or simply the glaze-eyed look that is always the result. But she was entranced. She seemed to feed off of the stories of the places I knew so well, to gain energy from the images of starkly beautiful, empty wilderness. And it was addicting. To be able to go on and on and know that she really wanted to hear it all. 

I talked for hours, until my voice went hoarse, and I felt such a sense of relief, of a weight lifting. It was almost as though I was home again, talking to her. And I went back to my apartment that night floating on a cloud, floating on memories and dreams. And the next morning it was still there, as I fed Dief, dressed in my red serge, and went downstairs, my heart as light as a snowflake.... 

Until I saw you. An oh-so-familiar green sedan pulled up and everything came crashing down, my exile, my loss, my pain. 

For a moment I hated you. 

The shock of realizing that hit me so hard I'm surprised I remained standing. I got in the car in a daze, trying to make some sense out of my feelings. I've never been very good at that. 

And you noticed right away. I don't know how, but your usual monologue stopped immediately and you looked at me with such concern in your eyes and asked if I was all right-- no teasing, no joking.... And I almost turned tail and ran. 

I don't know what I said, but I somehow managed to convince you that things were fine and you took me at my word and went on with news of your sisters and mother and nephews and I just let it all wash over me, the familiar mix of frustration and love in your voice as you spoke of them that usually somehow makes me feel so warm and safe inside too. But this morning it just cut like sharp lines underlining what I was missing, what I had lost. 

Come to think of it, you probably weren't convinced, were you? You were always so good at letting me have the space I needed-- accepting that I couldn't hold my emotions up for all the world to see the way you could-- that I always convinced myself that I had you fooled. I think I was wrong. 

The space you gave me was too carefully constructed to be the result of accident or even blind acceptance of my terms. It may have been space, but it was never empty-- you filled it with stories of love and warmth and hope. And sometimes, when you thought I needed it, you barged right in and refused to hear my automatic pleas for distance. More often than not I fought you off. If hours and hours of sentry duty has taught me nothing else, it has taught me to be able to out-wait, out-stubborn anything. Even you. 

But you _made_ me push you away. And because of that, I knew you were always there. 

That was that day that I faced it. I stood there at attention, eyes focused on the air in front of me and I looked at all the emotions that scared me so. I pulled them up one by one and sorted them out in rows like soldiers in a regiment.... 

I can hear you laughing now. In my mind you're rolling your eyes and throwing up your hands and saying "_Fraser_!" the way you do. I know it's ridiculous, pathetic. But it was the only way I knew how to approach something so wild and amorphous as the feelings that were roiling inside me. And I _had_ to find a way to understand. 

It was then that I saw what was happening, the torture I was setting up for myself. On the one side was the pull of home, so long a background pain that I'd stopped paying proper attention to it. Something in me had accepted it... not the loss, but the position of martyr. I never gave up on wanting to go home, but somehow I'd given up on trying to make it happen. 

And on the other hand was you. You are so much a part of this place, this city, that I can't see you apart from it. 

It's not like you've never been outside of it--I still remember the sight of you, bundled up beyond recognition, arm still in a sling, complaining bitterly every moment, as you arrived to tell me you'd discovered my father's killer. I'd never even thought to call, you know. I'd taken you at face value-- the "Mountie thing" was just another one of your cases, one that had taken far too much of your time and strength already. There were plenty of other cases, _American_ cases, on your desk to handle once you recovered. You had plenty of better things to do with your time. 

But there you were. Barely out of hospital and you'd tracked me down in the middle of nowhere to tell me, because you knew how much this meant to me. You _did_ care. 

I promised myself never to accept you at face value again. 

But you don't belong out there. You belong here. You would not be complete away from this place anymore than I am complete in it. 

And that was when I realised I had to do something quickly-- or I might never get home. 

> _ *You moan and sigh and say "It'll work out...",  
But honey-child, I've got my doubts--   
You can't see the forest for the trees.*_

Dief has a sadness about him ever since we left. Once upon a time I would have remonstrated with him for going soft, for mooning after a plush life in the city. But I know that's not the reason. For all his carrying on he loves the wilds as much as I do. He's just more willing to adapt to wherever he is because to him doing so is not a somehow a betrayal, an admission that we're never going home. 

He misses you. Not just the doughnuts or sleeping the day in the back seat of the Riviera, but you... and what you did to me. What you did for me. 

He knew then. He could see what I wouldn't admit. What I wouldn't show you. I caught that knowledge in his eyes as I stood there packing and talking on with my newfound voice, my newfound hope about home. 

Could you see that the joy in my eyes was for the family I was returning to, far more than for the woman I was taking with me? 

After that I started avoiding his eyes too. 

And so I looked away. I buried myself in the feelings, the hopes, the dreams of home. It was so unlike me. That was the way _you_ always felt-- emotions and passions blazing across the surface in such rapid succession that sometimes I could only stare, entranced. I've always envied that in you, your ability to just _feel_ like there was nothing else in the world for that moment. 

And now I've used it against you. Used the incredible rush that comes from of feelings suddenly released to hide myself from you, to bury myself away even deeper 

> _ *Now don't get me wrong: It's not that I knock it,  
It's just that I am not in the market  
For a boy who wants to love only me.*_

I can't even tell how much you understand yourself. Is it honesty or hope that thinks it sees... love... in the eyes of an Italian-American Chicago cop? 

Your feelings are always running across your surface like a waterfall, but how deeply do you ever look at them? Maybe I'm tearing myself up over something that was never there. 

I ran. I admit it. I ran from Chicago, from you, because I could see what was happening to me. How someday all too soon it would be too late and I'd never be able to leave at all. 

Only I think I got my foot caught in the door. 

I used Linda. I used her as a shield between us while I gathered whatever I could take with me and ran. 

But I left what I wanted most to take with me behind... where he belongs. 

I confessed it all to Linda on the plane to Yellowknife. I think she already knew on some level-- I desperately want to believe that she did. Not that that excuses anything. 

We never made love, you know. We'd kissed, but more like friends or siblings than lovers. And our abstinence was not the banked fires of restrained passion, but a simple closeness that didn't seem to need anything more. 

That didn't want anything more. 

We were each other's ticket out of Chicago-- both of us running for different reasons. But she was running to, as much as away, so when we arrived in Paulatuk she found what she needed. She's an extremely skilled teacher, you know. She hasn't the brashness to face up to a schoolroom in the heart of Chicago, but she's found a place here already. The students love her and I think she's never been happier. It's an incredible relief, I feel I owe her at least that much for what I did. 

But for me it is not so simple. For every second of pure joy at being here, at being _home_, there is a moment of grief, of loss. Much as I try to deny it, I've only traded one exile for another. I'm deathly afraid that there is no longer any place on this earth where I can be truly happy. 

I want to hate you for that. 

> _ *Yes and I ain't sayin' you ain't pretty,  
All I'm sayin' is I'm not ready  
For any person, place, or thing  
To try and pull the reins in on me*_

It haunts me now, what you said when I left. 

I deliberately planned it to be as rushed and abrupt as I could. My grandmother always taught me to pull a bandage off fast so the pain would be over quickly. 

So I mumbled apologies about the inconveniences and aggravations I had constructed myself and was gone as quickly as I could be. 

You said something about being best man and my chest clenched in horror at the thought. Even then, when I'd still managed to convince myself I was doing the right thing, even then I knew I couldn't possibly go through this charade with you at my side. 

So I mumbled something about timing and distance and custom and kept my eyes from yours. Then you said you were glad. You wished me happiness and said you were glad I'd found someone worthy of me. I was so startled I looked up. 

Whatever mercy there is saw to it that you were looking away for that split second or I might never have managed. But I could see it in your eyes, the self-reproach, the sense of failure. 

I couldn't deal with it then, couldn't process it, but it has haunted me ever since. Did you somehow think you weren't enough, you weren't somehow worthy? 

Do you have any idea how much it hurts me when you run yourself down? 

It's your father, isn't it? Much as I never felt like I was quite good enough for mine, at least he never told me so to my face. Yours did, didn't he? If he were still alive I'm not sure I could keep my hands off his throat for what he did to you. 

I've never understood this pedestal I seem to find myself on. People act as though I'm some paragon of virtue, some saint. But that's not who I am. I try, I do my best, to follow the ideals I was raised with, but that's not who I am inside. A saint wouldn't have to try. A saint would never have done this to Linda... or to you. 

You saw me with Victoria, damn it! You of all people should know just how far from being a saint I really am. 

Oh God, Victoria. 

I can still feel the blood rise to my face in shame for what happened. And I never apologised, did I? Afterwards I was still too caught up in my fantasy of tragic, eternal love to think. And later it was too awkward, the moment had passed. I don't know how you managed to ever forgive me for the pain I caused, the things I did to you, the things I almost let her do to you, to your family.... 

And yet you did, I could see it in your eyes. Complete forgiveness. 

How could I ever be worthy of that? 

> _ *So, goodbye-- I'll be leavin',  
I see no sense in this cryin' and grievin'--  
We'll both live a lot longer  
If you live without me.*_

But I want to be. 

Oh God, Ray, what do I do? I could be just misreading this whole thing. What do I know of emotions and feelings? If I am wrong, if I am alone in this then I'll only be creating more problems, tarnishing old memories with awkwardness and pain. 

But if I'm right. What then? Will I be throwing away one half of my soul for the other? 

And what would I be bringing you? More embarrassment from 'the guy in the hat'? More laughter from your friends? 

Or worse? What would happen when they found out? What would they think? What would they do? 

You were right, you know. I am always dragging you into situations against your better judgment. Since you've known me you've been shot, hit by cars, beaten, thrown and bloodied by explosions. I nearly drowned you in a bank vault-- nearly killed you by my own hand, my own overconfident miscalculation. 

For me you've jeopardised your family's home and blown up your beloved car. You've risked your career and your dignity more times than I could name. 

The very thought of causing you any more grief makes me so sick I can barely stand. 

So what do I do? 

I was trained to be stoic, Ray, to endure pain in silence for the sake of others. My mind tells me that if I loved you even a fraction of the amount I think I do, I'd stay away and leave you in peace. It also says that it would be wrong to make such a decision for you. It says I am only trying to justify my feelings. It says I am only trying to rationalise my fear. 

My heart won't listen at all. 

For once I don't know, I only feel. 

Once upon a time you ignored pain and inconvenience and traveled hundreds of miles to find me because you had discovered something that I needed to know. 

I think, perhaps, it's my turn. 

__  


* * *

Dianne  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <[cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]>  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed, we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	3. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #3:

# On My Own

  


**WARNING: Yet _more_ G-rated M/M angsting.** Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?" and "The Beat of a Different Drum"  


* * *

_I'd offer this one for Valentine's Day... if I didn't think you guys would _kill_ me. Yup, it's more angst (but they do it so _well_!) and precious little resolution. I'm _trying_, I swear... hang in there. What can I say? The moaning and groaning and depression comes naturally for me; the happy stuff is a lot harder. I'm just working my way up to it. _

I have this fear that I'm beating this far too much to death. If so, forgive me, the next one (Oh Goddess, I didn't say that, did I???) will be better, I promise. But if you read it anyway then keep your basketballs and your dead otters to yourselves-- you've been fairly warned. 

Factual disclaimers:  


  1. Yes I know Chicago has a river, but I was only there for an hour and I just remember the lake, o.k.? ;-)  

  2. I have a sneaking suspicion I put Fraser too damn far north for much in the way of trees (I'm from L.A., for heaven's sake. What do I know from high latitudes? ). If so, then they're really little trees and he's lying on his back looking up. Or he's on his way back and is somewhere near where they crashed in "North." Or he's having hallucinations of dead _trees_ now. I don't know, take your pick.  

  3. There's apparently some controversy over the stuff I've attributed to Plato, but that's how I learned it in school and I looked up the texts (_Republic_ 180 & 201, if you care) so tough, live with it. ;-)  

  4. Yes, Paulatuk is a real place in the Territories, just outside Tuktut Nogait National Park-- God, I love the web! ;-))) 

  
Thanks to the members of the D/ list, whose old emails I went through to help remind me of slashy scenes to quote from; and to all my friends who tried to help me remember the psychology I'd forgotten. 

The lyrics don't _always_ go back and forth, but I'm hoping the little "#" and "+" marks (if not the text!) will keep everyone on-track. 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# On My Own

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

_

> +And now I'm all alone again, nowhere to turn, no one to go to,+  
+Without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hello to,+  
+But now the night is near,+  
+Now I can make believe he's here.+

_

It's absolutely beautiful here. The air is clean and crisp and fills your lungs with the scent of evergreen and snow. There's no background noise at all-- every sound brings a message, has a story to tell. And, standing on the edge of a mountain, you can see forever and ever. I feel a thrill run up my spine and I turn without thinking to share this with you... 

And you're not there. 

It's been nearly a month. I should know better by now. 

But how can I learn not to expect you when I see you every night in my dreams? Nothing dramatic, nothing exotic. I dream about the most mundane days-- sitting in your car on stakeout for hours, talking aimlessly and sporadically about nothing and everything. Or just sitting there without any words at all. 

The people here are very pleasant; they've done their best to welcome me, to make me feel at home. But I think they can sense that it simply won't work; that there's nothing they can do. I spend most of my time out with Diefenbaker, the two of us alone in the wilderness. 

Seeing no other faces means I won't find myself comparing them to one I know too well -- and finding them lacking. 

The RCMP-issue cabin I have here would probably still appall you, but it's far nicer than the apartment; I think it's even bigger. But I'm hardly ever there. For all it has twice as much in it, it feels empty, lonely, in a way the apartment never did. 

People have invited me into their homes-- hospitality is sacred in a place where people are so few and far between and turning someone away from your door can easily be a death sentence. But as I sit there at quiet meals, I find myself missing your family. The noise and ruckus, the bickering and competition, echo in my head in the midst of the calm peace of the people around me. You reassured me, do you remember? That first time, when I was so completely overwhelmed, you told me not to worry; you joked that they only attacked the ones they loved. 

I _miss_ being attacked, Ray. 

_

> #Sometimes I walk alone at night when everybody else is sleeping;#  
#I think of him and then I'm happy with the company I'm keeping.#  
#The city goes to bed,#  
#And I can live inside my head. #

_

I think Ma knows. 

She hasn't said anything and I'm sure as hell not going to bring it up. But sometimes I catch her looking at me and her eyes are so sad.... 

Frannie was absolutely impossible for a full week, you know. She moaned and cried and you woulda thought the damn world was ending. You wouldn't believe the grief she gave me-- What did you do? What did you say? Why didn't you tell me about her? What's she got that I don't? How could you just let this happen? 

What was I supposed to say? She didn't want to hear my answers. _I_ didn't want to hear my answers. I'm not even sure I have any.... 

Frannie's over it by now. I wouldn't dare say it to her face, but it's true. She's been making her moves on this fireman she met last week when something she was burning in the oven got outta hand. Poor guy doesn't stand a chance. 

But I'm not over you. 

I talk to you, you know. Not like I talk to my father when some idiot forgets to lock up Hell for the night. I don't see you-- you're not dead, for God's sake, you're just gone... 

At first I found myself in front of the consulate after work. For three days running I pulled up and looked for you before I even realized what I was doing. After that I could see how I simply gravitated that direction at the end of every day, and I started to fight it, deliberately heading away. I kept ending up by the lake-- trading one habit for another, I guess. It's actually pretty out there-- open, and as wild as you're gonna get in the city. 

It makes me think of you. 

So I walk and I start telling you about my day like you're still there. You don't talk back, but then what's new, huh? It's just somehow I need to share it all with somebody, you know? 

Nah, I could do that at home or at some bar somewhere like my old man always did. 

I need to share it with _you_. 

_

> +On my own, pretending he's beside me,+

_

You know yesterday I found myself burning with the need to do something outrageous? Something improper, unexpected, a little wild? 

I bet that would shock you. I know it would shock the people here. I recognize it, it's a distinct phenomenon of interpersonal dynamics, whereby when a usual behavior is stopped or perceived as missing, another person will unconsciously take it upon themselves to compensate. It can actually work its way through whole families or groups, one person at a time, which can be particularly interesting in the case.... 

In _this_ case, it means I miss you. 

_

> #All alone, I walk with him 'til morning.#

_

I can't sleep worth a damn. 

Even Welsh gave me grief about it yesterday. Said I looked like shit and maybe I should take some time off. I made a big deal of a couple of the cases I was working on and chalked it up to a touch of whatever bug's been going around lately, and he let it go. I know better than to think I'm fooling him, though. I just don't know how much he's figured out. 

Enough not to _make_ me go home, at least. That kind of torture I don't need. I spend too damn much time thinking now as it is. I don't need any more free time. 

In fact, if I help Huey out with that Carson case I think I can manage some overtime.... 

_

> +Without him, I feel his arms around me+

_

Do you know all the times we touched over the years? 

I think I do. It was all casual, friendly, nothing more. But now it comes back to me. I find myself sifting through memories to recall how you _feel_. Your hands on my shoulder as you concentrate on the computer screen. Your arm slung casually about me as we walk. The play of your muscles under me as you carry me for miles through the woods. The feel of you in my arms as I pull you gasping from the lake. 

Then my mind imagines your arms reaching back. 

And as we stand there, wrapped tightly together in my daydream, then, finally, I am home. 

_

> #And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me.#

_

You helped me solve a case yesterday. 

Well, you and Dief both, I guess. Huey would laugh his ass off if I told him how I broke that Carson case. But people are used to hunches from me. I didn't have to explain how the fur around Carson's dog's face smelled just like the house special over at Mi Piace. 

I imagine telling you and seeing you smile that little bemused smile of yours. Hot damn, huh? Looks like the blustering American cop can learn some of the finer points of tracking after all. 

But now he's got to keep stopping himself from tracking you all the way back to Pata-tacka-whatever.... 

_

> #In the rain the pavement shines like silver.#  
#All the lights are misty in the river.#

_

So I drive. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, I just drive. Driving's been my escape ever since the first moment I could duck out the back of the house when I heard my father coming in the front at night and just disappear into the city. The Riv's still my escape. 

You spent so much time in it the past few years it's almost like you're a part of it too now. I find myself edgy, short-tempered when I'm driving someone else around and they're sitting in your seat. "Your seat"-- just listen to me! I nearly bit Frannie's head off today when she threw her bag back over into the back without looking. When she complained, I gave her some line about ruining the upholstery the way she's always slinging things around. 

I couldn't tell her I'd been afraid she'd brain poor Dief. 

But alone, cruising the streets at night, I find the old peace. Only this time it's the emptiness of the house that I'm fleeing. 

Pretty ridiculous, huh? "Just silly," I bet you'd say. The house is still crawling with people like always. Nothing's changed. I mean you were never even there for more than a meal, you know. Maybe it's just the city that seems empty then. 

Only not when I'm driving.... 

_

> +In the darkness the trees are full of starlight,+  
+And all I see is him and me, forever and forever.+

_

The daydreams take up more of my time now. 

There's not much to do. It's a peaceful community, no drug-running, no kidnapping, no extortion. Precious little theft and not a murder in years. Some domestic disputes, hunting accidents, the occasional poacher in Tuktut Nogait. 

Mostly it's just being here in case I'm needed, checking in on a sick family, rescuing an unlucky trapper. But at least here my uniform means something. Here I have a real job; I'm needed, in my small way. I'm respected. 

But I have far too much time to think. 

I take Dief out hunting nearly every night. We're both getting better, honing skills that deteriorated while living in the city. I imagine you're with me, complaining endlessly about the cold and the dark and the trek, but coming anyway, as I know you would. The world is beautiful at night, but it would be so much more so with you here to share it. 

_

> #And I know it's only in my mind--#

_

Some idiot in the commissioner's office has got it into his head to make sure everyone's working with a partner now. Welsh said something about it the other day and Huey and I both threw a fit. So he assigned us to each other. It's just temporary and a formality for the brass-- we're still working our own cases and sitting at our own desks. 

But it's just a matter of time. 

We both have to get over it, huh? I mean, they're not gonna keep us together. We'd kill each other within the week. Besides, we both know what we're doing. No, they'll assign me some damn rookie with only a couple of years on the force and I'll have to hold his hand and show him around and he'll want to sit across the desk and ride around in the Riv.... 

And I resent the hell out of him already. 

_

> +That I'm talking to myself, and not to him.+

_

I imagine us together, but it never goes more than that one bare step beyond the friendship that we've shared-- safe, strong, platonic.... 

Actually, you know, Ray, the term "platonic" is something of a misnomer. It refers to the ancient philosopher, Plato, who believed that love between two men was the most perfect and only true kind of love in existence. His argument was-- to be quite honest-- appallingly misogynistic, and was based on the societal conventions in place in Greece at that period, many of which are simply no longer as relevant in modern Western culture. It was, in fact, just such a cultural shift-- specifically the deep-seated homophobia of later Western European culture-- that made the assumption that his argument referred solely to non-sexual forms of expression.... 

I'm doing it again, aren't I? How am I supposed to know I'm babbling when you're not here to cut me off? 

_

> #And although I know that he is blind,#

_

How much did you see, Benny? How much could you see? 

You're the tracker, the expert, the one who can spot the tiniest thing out of place and read it like a map, but if you don't know what it is you're looking at.... 

I bet your grandmother's library didn't have a book on this. How about an Inuit story, huh? A legend where the hero doesn't get the girl... and doesn't want to? Where two hunters walk off into the northern lights together? 

I bet not. For all you fluster at a woman's come-on stare, I'll bet you never even _recognized_ one from a guy. They do look, you know. I've seen it happen. 

Hell, I've done it myself. 

_

> +Still I say, there's a way for us...+

_

"Platonic" is actually the perfect word, in its own way. That's what I want: a perfect true love between two men, a communion of mind, soul, _and_ body. 

How can I be thinking this? I know the common prejudices: you're an Italian Catholic cop. What could possibly suggest "homophobia" more than that? I mean, I know you're not naive, but in your soul have you really ever accepted that such things can happen? 

I'm terrified that I'll offend you. That I'll be standing there and I'll see this look of disgust or horror or, worse, _pity_ come over that face I love so much-- and I think I'll just die. I know I should not be doing this, thinking this. I know the common prejudices... but I also know that you're anything but common. 

My heart tells me that we could be so good together. We _were_ so good already. I know people used to stare at us and shake their heads in confusion-- How could we stand each other? Two people so different, it's a wonder being always so at odds didn't handicap us both. 

But it was only a surface opposition. We _were_ more complete together, and, deep and unspoken, we recognized and trusted each other's strengths. You always complained bitterly, but you came anyway. I always objected, but I followed your lead. Maybe we were just perfect partners. 

But I want to believe we could be so much more. 

_

> #I love him. But when the night is over,#  
#He is gone. The river's just a river.#

_

But I can't drive forever, you know. You have what you've always wanted in life and I want so bad to be happy for you, I really do. Either way, somehow I have got to come to terms with this before I lose my mind.... 

Something has got to happen, and it's gonna have to happen soon. 

_

> +Without him the world around me changes--+  
+The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.+

_

I thought that being back here in the city would be... different. Better than being so far away. Worse than being home. _Somehow_ different. But it's not. I feel the same emptiness. The only difference is the intensity, the fear, that comes from being so close.... 

Something is going to happen, and it's going to happen soon. 

_

> #I love him. But every day I'm learning--#

_

I can't see loving anyone else the way I do you. 

I know from experience that the sharpness of the pain will pass. Maybe someday I'll even try to find something, someone, to fill up some of the void. God, I hope I don't end up hurting them the way I did Angie. 

But right now my heart can't believe that will ever happen. Right now I'm only trying to find a way to live with the emptiness, to accept it into me, into my life, the way I did you. 

_

> +All my life I've always been pretending.+

_

A part of me can't believe I'm doing this. 

My father's been strangely quiet, but perhaps I just can't hear him over the dissension in my own mind. Why take this risk? I've lived without love most of my life and I can do it again. I've learned from experience that some prices are too high to pay, even for love. Losing your friendship would be one of them. 

But my heart insists I take the chance. The problem with stoicism is that it offers no chance, no hope. There's time enough for that later, to accept the loss, to learn to live with it... once I'm forced to face that it's irreversible. 

_

> #Without me his world will go on turning.#

_

How did you do it, Benny? 

How did you live with the pain of loss, bury it away inside you, and still manage to smile politely at the world? How did you get through the days missing something that was so much a part of you? Jesus, Benny, how did you get through the nights? 

It's my turn now, isn't it? I saw the new smile on your face, remember? You're not having to pretend any more. 

Oh dammit, Benny! If you were gonna leave me with a broken heart at least you could have taught me how to live with one first.... 

_

> +The world is full of happiness that I have never known.+

_

I deserve this. _We_ deserve this. 

We have both lived through too much pain, it is time for some joy. I always think the best of people, Ray, how can I do less for the world, for whatever forces may affect our lives? Nature's justice is harsh, but it is true. 

I know it makes no sense. I have no doubt that love is a force in this world, but I also know it doesn't follow orderly rules like gravity or the tides. 

But I know this emptiness is _wrong_, and we would be so right. I just _know_.... Call it a hunch, Ray.... 

_

> +I love him. I love him.+

_

Your car's not at the house, but I pay off the taxi driver anyway. 

As he pulls away I stand there in the street, not knowing what to do. I can't stop my hands from shaking. Perhaps I should have waited until morning.... 

Yes, I should have. It's well after midnight, after all. What was I thinking to risk disturbing your family at such an hour? 

I was thinking I could not wait another minute to see you. 

That's ridiculous. I wasn't thinking at all. But I am now. The possibilities run through my head automatically. You could be working a late shift, sitting on a stakeout, away visiting relatives.... 

Visiting a non-relative. 

Oh God! This was a mistake. A horrible mistake. You're probably with Louise, or Chris, or Maeve, or whoever is in your black book this week and I shouldn't be here and if I just leave now quickly no one will ever have to know.... 

_

> #I love him, but only on my own.#

_

I turn the corner towards home, still trying to convince myself I'm coming to terms with it all and... 

Oh God, now I'm _seeing_ you! 

For a split-second my heart stops cold. Does this mean you're dead now? Oh God, no, Benny.... 

But then you turn around as I pull up and there is such panic written on your face that I don't care. All I want is to grab you and hold you and protect you and make whatever it is all right. 

Instead I pull up beside you as I've done a hundred times before and roll down the window.... 

"Benny?" 

[finis] 

* * *

Dianne  
_(squeal of tires and scurry of footsteps as Dianne is hustled into an unmarked van and joins the International FicAuthor's Relocation Program... ;-)_  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed, we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	4. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #4:

# Blue Moon

**WARNING: M/M, Some angst, much resolution (I _promise_! ;-)** Nothing here that's gonna frighten the horses, though. g Probable mid-to-heavy sap alert. Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum," and "On My Own."  


* * *

_O.K., this time no song. pauses while shocked gasps subside I've decided I know way too many lonely, depressing, angsty songs, and I have to admit I really agree with Margie, who wrote me "It was good angst.... But now they should be happy g." So Happy Valentine's Day, all, and here's some _happy_ (quite possibly sappy) slash. _

"Blue Moon" is included at the end just because I like it, and it kinda works, and it's such a Valentine's Day sorta song ;-) 

I tried to shift gears into third-person as another way of avoiding the angst, but they just wouldn't do it. Frankly, I could only take the bitching and moaning so long, so I gave in. So shoot me.... g 

Factual disclaimer: I have no earthly idea if what I have Benny saying about the Inuit is even remotely true. Unfortunately, I don't know any Inuit to ask, so I had to fake it. Please forgive my liberties with another culture's customs and feel free to correct me if you know better. 

PG M/M this time-- only because, well, they're actually in the same place, talking face-to-face (or face-to-side-of-head anyway), and we're doing happy parts now. ;-) Never fear, nothing you couldn't see on the screen (well, if they'd show slash g)... and without even sending the kids out of the room. (Heck, this makes VS look like porn by comparison-- I'm just making sure people know what they're getting into.) 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# Blue Moon

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

You look so damned scared standing there. 

"Benny?" 

Our eyes lock for just a moment-- a moment that could have been forever for all I know-- until you look away. You give yourself a little shake, like you're settling yourself back into your normal calm, readjusting that careful shield against the world, and get in. 

It's probably reflex, more than anything. The same reflex that makes me pull away and keep going down the street instead of turning into the driveway. 

I probably could sit here forever, cruising the empty streets, just soaking up the feel of you being here again... if it wasn't for the memory of that panic on your face. I don't want to spoil this one, perfect moment, to end this tiny little gift that means all the world to me, but I _have_ to know.... 

"Benny, what's wrong?" 

You're just sitting there, eyes front, staring out the window like you're a million miles away. You're _supposed_ to be, dammit, but somehow you're not.... 

"Is it Linda?" 

You shake your head, a dismissive little gesture. 

"No. No...." 

Until you're caught short by a thought. 

"Well, technically, I suppose.... No." 

And the silence returns. Great, Benny, _that's_ a big help. So if it's not Linda that's got you so freaked out, what else could it be? Oh no.... 

"Dief? Oh God! Something happ...." 

"No! No, Ray, Dief is fine. I just left him in Canada. There was no point in putting him through quarantine twice in a row if...." 

And as your voice trails off all I can think is that you're leaving again. Damn it, I _knew_ that. So why does it feel like I was just kicked in the gut all over again? 

"Then what is it, Benny?" 

More silence. It's getting a bit much. I scan the non-existent traffic and turn left. And I'm thinking: so what else means that much to you? 

"Oh geez, you didn't do something that...." 

I see you look up in confusion. 

"Canada didn't throw you out again, did they?" 

And you're shaking your head again, like we're sitting here playing twenty-questions, for God's sake.... 

"No, Ray. It's nothing like that. This...." 

Out of the corner of my eye I can see you straighten up your already perfect posture like you're trying to stand at attention. 

"It's something personal." 

"_What?_" 

Even before I see you jump, I'm wincing at my own tone. But, Jesus, Benny! Why do you always have to do this? Why can't you just spit it out already? Can't you see what kind of torture this whole situation is for me? 

I take a deep breath, hoping I haven't startled you completely back into close-mouthed, stoic Mountie mode, and try again. 

"Look, Benny, you can tell me anything-- we're friends. You know that, right?" 

A nod. A silent, formal, _parade_ nod. I sigh into the silence I'm not at all surprised to hear. You obviously need to talk. _I_ need you to talk. Someone needs to drag this out of you, and I guess I'm elected, huh? 

"O.K., let's start at the beginning: Last time I heard you were headed for the wilds of Upper Pata-luk-" 

"Paulatuk, Ray." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. _Paulatuk_...." 

I hang a right for no particular reason. 

"...Never to return to this godforsaken country." 

You open your mouth to politely object, but I won't let you. 

"So why do I find you standing in the middle of a Chicago street at 2 a.m.?" 

"Well the cab had just left and...." 

"_Benny_!" 

"I left something behind, Ray." 

Wha...? 

"Something you've come back across two time zones and an international border for in the middle of the night?" 

"Yes, Ray." 

My mind is racing but nothing I can come up with makes sense. 

"I didn't think you _had_ anything worth all that." 

"I... I did. I just don't know if I still do." 

It's so instinctive I barely notice, except for the momentary relief I feel. Some tiny, aching part of me watches as I focus in on the problem to be solved, the mysterious missing article to be recovered. A case, a thing, no feelings, no pain.... 

"Well you cleaned out the apartment before you left, so what are we talking about here? Something at the consulate?" 

We turn onto Lake Shore Drive-- I guess even new habits die hard, huh?-- and I look over and you're still staring out the damn windshield. What's happened, Benny? Why won't you look me in the eye? 

"Benny?" 

A small quiet sigh. 

"I'm not sure that I should tell you, Ray." 

"_What?_" 

By this point my head's starting to ache and I'm starting to remember why you sometimes used to piss me off so much.... 

"I'm afraid that I made a mistake in returning here...." 

And it's all forgotten as your words give me this horrible, sick feeling. I want to tell you I don't care, it doesn't matter, you're back and that's enough.... But, oh God, I _should_ care, because you haven't really come back and this is only going to make it harder, so _damn_ much harder. 

"What do you mean, Benny?" 

The silence is back and it's staring to make me nuts. This whole conversation is twisting me up inside in ways I don't even want to think about and I can't decide if I want to beg you to stay or kick you right out into the street. So instead I just say the obvious without letting myself think. 

"So, if coming here was a mistake, you go back, right?" 

A slight pause and a shake of the head. 

"I'm afraid that that would be a mistake as well, Ray." 

_That's *it*!_

The next thing I know we're pulled over in an empty lot facing the lake and I can smell rubber off the tires as I twist in the seat to face you. 

"Dammit, Benny! You are _the_ most annoying person on the face of this earth!" 

You're just staring at me. I think after all this time my driving finally scared you speechless. For a second I sit there listening to the engine cooling and feeling my pulse racing at about a hundred miles an hour from anger or frustration or fear or stress or God-only-knows-what.... 

And then you answer me. 

"I know, Ray. Why do you put up with me?" 

Your words are so quiet I almost have to strain to hear them over the pounding in my ears. What the hell kind of question is that? I'm looking at you because you _can't_ be serious... but by the look on your face you are. Completely and utterly serious. 

Oh God, Benny, believe me, you really don't want to hear the answer to that. 

When I speak, my voice has dropped to match yours. 

"What the hell is going on, Benny?" 

You're watching the lake again like it has all the answers and I'm thinking maybe it's not such a bad thing you won't meet my eyes. God only knows what you'd find there. 

"I need to know, Ray. I embarrass you, inconvenience you, annoy you, even endanger your life-- yet you put up with it, with me. Why?" 

All the flip responses appear at the tip of my tongue as I turn to study the lake too: 'Force of habit,' 'God isn't finished laughing at me yet,' 'Damned if I know!' But I _do_ know. And maybe I'm damned too and I can't even care, so I just answer as best I can. 

"Because you're my best friend, Benny. " 

And I close my eyes and I take a deep breath and I go as far as I can..... 

"And I care about you." 

I turn to meet your eyes... and how can eyes that blue look so dark, so serious? And I'm searching them and I know what I want to see, and what I can't possibly be seeing, and whatever they may actually be saying is completely lost somewhere between. 

Then you turn away again, breaking the spell. 

"Ray, among the Inuit..." 

And I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream, so I just sit there and do nothing. 

"...there is a perception of the basic nature of the most meaningful interpersonal relationships, one that focuses heavily on a spiritual connection, which is seen to far outweigh the specifics of genetically-determined biological differences or societally-constructed gender roles. While this is, actually, directly in keeping with the views of most mystical and shamanistic peoples from around the world, it is in direct opposition to the view found in most of western culture... Unless, of course, you look carefully at the actual writings of many of the ancient Greek philosophers, such as Plato...." 

_Plato_? 

"Benny, you're babbling...." 

"I love you, Ray." 

And my heart jumps. Stops. Tries to do both at once.... 

Before my brain takes over and with my last vestiges of common sense I realize that you can't possibly mean... You just don't know that guys don't _say_ things like that to each other... I mean, not unless... But hell, you probably tell your Inuit fishing buddies that every day, and it doesn't mean a thing... But not here... You have absolutely no idea what that sounds like, do you? 

But then I see you're sitting there shaking. 

I look at you in the dead silence, begging you to meet my eyes, terrified that you will. You're so controlled, always so very controlled, but when I look close you're trembling all over... trembling so hard it'd probably look like seizures in anyone else.... 

"Benny... I...." 

My mouth is completely dry (what does that mean, Benny?), so I try to swallow and I'm licking at my lips because they're sticking together and now I'm looking out my window. 

"You don't.... Look, you don't realize what that sounds like...." 

"I love you, Ray." 

I turn automatically and find myself trapped again by those eyes, beautiful, mesmerizing, and utterly sincere, feeling as though they could speak straight into my soul. 

"I am _in_ love with you. I dream of you at night and think of you all day. When I'm away from you I feel like a part of my soul has been ripped away, and if there's the slightest chance I want nothing more on this earth than to be with you for the rest of my life." 

Some immeasurable stretch of seconds later I realize I'm just sitting there in shock. My mouth is open, but nothing's coming out and my brain is completely refusing to function in any meaningful way. Feeling like I'm paralyzed, I watch you sitting there, searching my face and have no idea what you're seeing there, I only know that my whole soul must be visible.... 

"Ray?" 

I blink, startled, and try desperately to concentrate long enough to form a coherent thought... but those eyes.... 

"Ray, please. Say something. Anything...." 

Finally I manage to pull my gaze back long enough to focus on _something_... it's a face, a beautiful face, looking at me... and the panic lurking there, rising slowly to the surface again... No, oh God, Benny.... 

"I love you." 

I don't know if I've whispered or shouted, but somehow I managed to get the sound past my lips because the wash of surprise, disbelief, hope, relief, joy, chasing across your face is enough to tear my heart right out. And before I realize it I've pulled you into my arms and am holding you as you continue to tremble, the control slipping until you're actually shaking against me. And I'm trying to comfort you, rubbing your back, and everything I've wanted to say for so long is just pouring out in a stream of hopeless nonsense.... 

"Oh Benny, I love you. Always... I never thought... I couldn't help... and then... I thought it would kill me when you left. You were gone and I couldn't... I couldn't... don't... please... don't ever leave me again...." 

You pull away so that I can see your face and there are tears on your cheeks, and then you smile. You smile, and it takes my breath away. I've never seen anything that beautiful in my entire life and then you're leaning forward and I can feel your lips on mine and we're kissing and this is heaven. I don't care if I'm damned for all eternity because I'm living in heaven already and I don't ever want to be anywhere but here in your arms.... 

And we finally break apart, gasping for breath and I'm laughing. We're both laughing and sitting parked like a couple of teenagers for heaven's sake and if it meant my life I just couldn't wipe the stupid, sappy grin off my face. 

There's nowhere to go: we can't go home-- later, sure, but not now, not at God-knows-what in the morning when who knows who might wake up and start asking questions. The damned apartment's gone, and I sure as hell am not gonna take you to some motel.... 

So we walk along the lake, barely saying a word, just _being_ together, and smiling so hard our damn faces hurt and laughing at each other's sappy grin and at life and love and the world. And we sit in the Riv and watch the sun rise over Lake Michigan.... 

And then we head back into the city, back into two lives that will never, ever be quite the same. 

_finis_

*************** 

Blue Moon 

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone  
Without a dream in my heart,   
Without a love of my own.  


Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for,  
You heard me saying a prayer for  
Someone I really could care for.  


Then suddenly there stood before me  
The only one my arms will ever hold;  
I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me."--  
And when I looked the moon had turned to gold.  


Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone,  
Without a dream in my heart,  
Without a love of my own.  


* * *

_O.K., guys. Thanks to all of you who've sent me nice little notes threatening vile and hideous tortures if I didn't keep going-- you know who you are g. _

This was the finale, the wrap-up, the "happily-ever-after," and-- most importantly-- *The End*. Roll credits. Please remember to take all personal belongings with you as you leave the theatre. Drive carefully and have a good night. 

So why are they *still* talking to me? Everybody's happy, right? Leave it be. Come on, give me a break, guys! I'm supposed to be working on stories for I don't know how many different people now, and betareading for others.... I love you both dearly... now _go away_! hums loudly, fingers in ears I'm not liiiiiistening!!! 

ARGH!... *Stop that, dammit!* *Bad* Mountie! No biscuit! 

Help!?!?!?!? 

Dianne  
_D/ Fic-Victim..._  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed, we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	5. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #5:

# Living in the Real World

**WARNINGS: for... (all together now!) "the dollar/rand exchang..." Oooops! Wrong litany! g How about: "More PG-rated M/M angst." But this is new and improved angst-- now with added plot! ;-) ** Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", and "Blue Moon." 

* * *

_This piece has no song. No really, I mean it this time! ;-) I finally realized that I was trying desperately to come up with a song that fit the story that was developing in my head and eventually even _I_ realized how silly that was, so I stopped. Don't get used to it, they take too much work this way... and it's murder to come up with your own title! _

Hey, don't look at me, _you're_ the ones who wanted more, who couldn't leave the happily-ever-after fade into the sunrise bit alone. Well I hate to tell you, but there's a reason you fade out on happily- ever-after. Sometimes reality *bites*... and pain and misery are an author's livelihood. Deal. ;-) 

Besides, you know me by now. I'm not gonna _leave_ them that way... what kind of a sadist do you think I am? Anyway, Dief's still in quarantine, poor thing... and if you think I'd torture *him*, you've got another think coming! g 

* * *

# Living in the Real World

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

This morning at the lake was wonderful, incredible-- the realization of a dream that, impossibly, miraculously, you shared. It was as if no one and nothing could ever touch us again.... 

Then we had to return to the real world. 

Driving back we didn't realise it yet, still sitting there just _looking_ at each other every chance we got... every emotion displayed on our faces and every one of them some shade of joy. At every signal light you'd turn to me and... Oh Ray, you have the most beautiful smile.... 

And the horns blaring behind us would startle us out of our mutual trance and you'd laugh as I blushed and you turned back to the road. 

You dropped me at the consulate, where I'd left my things, and it was so automatic... I was out of the car before I could realise I wanted to say good-bye, that I was going to miss you ridiculously for the next hour or so the way new lovers do. I turned back at a loss and you just smiled at me-- and suddenly everything was all right. 

You pulled away to go back to the house and change and I walked inside grinning like the love-sick fool I was.... 

Constable Turnbull seems as confused as ever, but I feel no urge to enlighten him as I enlist his help in arranging for Diefenbaker's transport, along with the rest of my things left in Paulatak. He is quite eager to help, in his own way, as I draft a formal request to be returned to my old posting-- which he assures me has not been filled in the month I was gone. He even is kind enough to allow me the use of my old office to store my things while I arrange housing, but, as I have only the one bag, I decline. 

Everything is coming together perfectly as I shoulder my bag and prepare to go down and wait for you at the curb.... 

"_Constable_?" 

The look on the Inspector's face is somewhere between shock and offense as she looks me over, as though the explanation for my sudden reappearance is to be found written on my clothing. I find myself snapping to attention without even needing to think, even though it feels odd to be standing so in civilian clothes. 

"Good morning, Inspector." 

"What are you doing here?" 

Surprise has cut directly though the usual courtesies, so I respond in kind. 

"I plan to be staying in Chicago, or rather returning to it, for the foreseeable future. In light of this I have prepared a formal request for the reinstatement of my posting here. I left it on your desk, as Constable Turnbull assures me the position has not yet been filled...." 

That apparently was enough to earn the hapless young constable a momentary glare from the Inspector, although why, I'm not certain. But a second later her eyes are back on me, staring for just a moment, puzzled, before asking: 

"Why?" 

And it's only at that moment-- at that seemingly simple and obvious question-- that it all comes crashing down. 

My mind races through possible answers... and their consequences. We didn't discuss this, we didn't plan, we didn't _think_... we were too busy feeling. 

If the choice were solely mine I would happily-- proudly-- tell her the truth: I've fallen madly in love with a Chicago police detective and I want to be with him for the rest of my life. After all, the RCMP has an official non-discrimination policy, and, even unofficially, admitting this could hardly damage my career any more than the other things I've done for love in the past. 

But the choice is not mine alone. My admission would implicate you as well, and that frightens me. You have a career, a family, friends-- a life. And this might cost you them all. The very thought makes my blood run cold. What are we going to do? 

I realise that the Inspector is still staring at me, waiting for an answer I have no right to give her. So I cite 'personal reasons', which is, after all, the truth, and allow her to assume things went badly between Linda and me. 

She lets it go, for now. She has little choice, but I don't delude myself into thinking that it won't come up again. It's never been a secret that my original posting here was as much a punishment as anything else. Even if people assume the problem is Linda, they will want to know why, given the choice, I would ever return _here_. 

And questions at the consulate will only be the beginning. 

So I stand at the curb, my euphoria gone and my heart aching all over again... until I see a familiar green Buick pull up. 

"Hey, stranger, need a ride?" 

And the smile is back on my face. It will work. Somehow it _has_ to work. 

I get in and immediately feel my hand clasped in yours. I look up and our eyes lock for an endless moment, restating our love more clearly and deeply than any words can. Then you turn back and we pull away. 

"Saw Ma and she was glad to hear you're back. She insisted you come over for dinner tonight." 

I look over, trying to read your face, but I can't. Only there's a certain wariness in your eyes as you ask me: 

"So. How'd things go at the consulate?" 

I assure you that everything went well, that it looks likely I will be able to return to my old post... but the news doesn't seem as comforting as it should. Undoubtedly you have been faced with "Why?" as well. You are far more skilled at dissembling than I, but even you can't avoid such questions forever. 

And you are the one with the price to pay, the stakes to lose. 

I want to ask if you're having second thoughts, but I can't get the words past the knot in my throat. 

It's a sign of trust... or habit... or is it desperation?... that I've not even thought to ask where we're going before now. 

"I'm supposed to work today, but I figure we'll just stop by long enough for me to ask Welsh for some time off, o.k.?" 

You turn back to me and the smile has returned full-force... and with a certain wicked gleam to it this time. I blush and nod, not trusting myself to say a word. 

* * *

I look up, distracted from my thoughts as you swear under your breath, tear the form from the typewriter as though it had personally offended you, crumple it, and send it sailing towards the trash can. You see me watching, roll your eyes dramatically, and feed another sheet into the machine. 

I know you feel badly that we have to stay here until you finish this paperwork, but I don't mind. It's not your fault that the Leftenant was in such a mood today as to insist you catch up before you take any time off. 

I like being here. It reminds me of old times as I sit across the desk watching you work. I find I _like_ just being able to sit and watch you. 

Besides, it gives me time to think. It's not a pleasant thing, but it's necessary. 

Leftenant Welsh welcomed me back with a startled look and the all-encompassing shrug he seems to have adopted in regards to me and my presence here in general. Then he slapped me on the back and suggested that maybe now that I was here I could "whip you back into shape again." I'm not sure quite what he means, but I rather think I'm at least partly responsible for the record speed at which that paperwork is being done. 

Elaine is off today and Detective Huey is out working a case. No one else here will openly question my return, although many of them are obviously wondering. 

What will you tell them? Now is not the place for this discussion, but I need to know. I'm afraid to know. 

After all, when you were arguing for leave you told Welsh you needed to help me settle back in... which is true. As true as the 'personal reasons' I cited. 

And just as evasive. 

I don't blame you, you know. Not at all. I can't even imagine myself in your position to know what I would do. For all your 'loose cannon' attitude, you have a promising career here. _You_ may not fit the common stereotypes, but those labels do come from somewhere. A police force can make life hell for one they feel has somehow turned against them, take it from me, Ray. And in a profession like ours, where fast and reliable back-up can be all that stands between you and a criminal's bullet, contempt can be deadly. 

You pull the last sheet out of the typewriter with a flourish and slam the folder closed around it. Then, with that smile that undermines all my best intentions, you pick up the stack and fairly run to the Leftenant's office door. 

I catch up in time to see you drop the pile triumphantly on his desk, like a child finishing lessons early, and ask if we can go now. The Leftenant looks at you, looks at me, then shakes his head and mutters, "The lengths you'll go to to avoid partnering with Huey...." 

And you just smile at this tacit reinstatement of our unofficial partnership. 

We're in the car again and have barely cleared the block when you ask me where I'm staying. Before I can even answer the radio interrupts and, after a moment's pause, you answer it with a scowl. 

"Yeah, Elaine? I'm off-duty you know." 

"Not anymore you're not...." 

"No way! Ask Welsh...." 

"Listen up, Vecchio, there's been a shooting down Southside. Some little kid got hit by a stray bullet when gangbangers decided to take on some of the 21st. Now things are looking ugly down there, they're worried about a riot, and they've recalled _everybody_ ASAP." 

You swear under your breath and pound the steering wheel with your fist. Then, with your eyes rolled heavenward as if asking for intervention or an explanation, you respond. 

"Got it, Elaine. I'm on my way back." 

You throw down the radio in disgust and turn to me, mouth open to apologise. But I just nod my understanding. With a heartfelt sigh and one more blow to the inoffensive car, you're spinning the wheel and I'm hanging on, eyes closed, as we turn around. 

* * *

By late afternoon the feared riot has not manifested, but neither has the situation been brought under control to the satisfaction of the Chief. 

Through strategic retreats and the general crisis atmosphere, I've managed to avoid being questioned closely by anyone, but the effort is, frankly, beginning to take its toll. While I've finally convinced you to keep your unflattering opinions of your superiors down to the occasional discreetly-muttered-- if generally-improbable-- suggestion, I've accomplished little else in the past few hours except to think myself into more desperate and comfortless circles. 

You must be able to see it because, as you rise to answer yet another summons to the Leftenant's office, you pause to give me a wan smile. 

"There's no reason for you to stay here, Benny. Who knows when they're gonna let us go. Go home." 

And you're gone before I can remind you I don't have a 'home' here anymore. 

But then I realise that's one thing I need to change. 

* * *

Mr. Mustaffi, like Leftenant Welsh, seems oddly unsurprised to see me back. In no time at all I'm reinstalled in my old apartment-- he says the renter he found to replace me moved out within the week. 

As I sit once again on the narrow bed, it's as if nothing has changed, as if the whole last month was merely a dream or simply a vacation and now I am back. But it's not true. Everything has changed. 

I miss Canada still; I don't think that will ever change, and I find a certain perverse comfort in that. But the pain is much less now. I think that the trip, as hard as it was without you, has done me a world of good. Maybe that's all I need, a trip back every so often, to keep that part of my soul intact. Maybe next time I can take you with me.... 

I can't help it. Thoughts of you, happy, joyous thoughts, now turn almost immediately to fear, worry, uncertainty. 

I returned to this apartment because I needed time to think. Ray, my love, we haven't thought this through. Nothing would make me happier than to be with you night and day, but where? How? All the sweet romantic notions in the world are paling beside the simple logistics of everyday life. 

The house? Would you laugh this time when I blush at the thought, Ray? You obviously haven't even told your mother yet, I can hardly show up on her doorstep, belongings in hand. And you must have been thinking just as I have. Realizing the consequences implicit in what we've proposed. Is this something you dare tell her? Do I even want you to? A place of our own would be no less a problem. 

Which leaves... here? 

The difference between a discreet liaison and a tawdry affair is in the heart of the participants, not the particulars of decor. Still I can hardly see you here-- I know how you hate this place. Perhaps I can find a more suitable apartment?... although the danger of discovery still makes it a reckless plan. I don't know if I can live a gamble, with the life you know and love hanging in the balance, Ray. 

With a sudden relief I remember that your mother is expecting me for dinner. I need time away from these thoughts, from the constant litany of doubt, so I head downstairs to find a cab. 

* * *

Not the wisest move on my part, was it? Why sit in the frying pan when I can leap directly into the fire? 

What is it about you that clouds my most basic thinking, Ray? 

The crisis apparently over, you meet me at the door, a mix of concern and relief on your face. You ask where I've been and I barely have time to tell you of my good fortune in finding my old apartment empty when your mother seizes me in an unexpected and quite overwhelming embrace. Over her shoulder I can see Francesca rolling her eyes and berating you for letting me return to 'that place', but the look on your face as you fend off her reproach worries me. 

Perhaps you've finally had a chance to think things through as well. 

With a terrible tightness in my chest I allow your mother to lead me into the dining room and before I know it dinner is in full swing-- grown siblings sparring like children again, small children loudly demanding attention, food in every direction, utter chaos.... 

And I love it, Ray. A secret part of my heart now calls this home too. 

Although it would hurt terribly to lose this acceptance, the place I have here, I can't even imagine what it would be like for you. I never want you to have to know. 

And even if your family could somehow manage to accept this, accept us, what of their friends, their neighbours. Would we be asking them to live with the consequences of our relationship too? Can we do that? 

My half-formed fears of this morning that we would give ourselves away with a look, a reaction, are eased. Francesca obviously suspects nothing, at least, and returns to aiming her unsubtle flirting my direction as if I had never left. Even Maria's pointed reference to a current boyfriend doesn't break her stride. 

I find myself responding with a smooth combination of obtuseness and deflection that impresses even me. Although it probably doesn't show, the nervousness, the discomfort I once felt at such come-ons is gone. Maybe it's simply in knowing where my heart lies-- in knowing for certain what I do and don't want. If nothing else, loving you has given me that confidence, Ray. 

I catch your eye after one of her more transparent attempts and we exchange a secret look of amusement, of knowing. But you turn away at a comment from your mother and I can see that you look at her with a sadness, a worry. 

And I feel a coldness seep into my chest. This isn't going to work, is it, Ray? It was a pretty dream, a _beautiful_ dream. But now it's morning and it's time to wake up. 

I reassure everyone that Dief is indeed on his way-- drawing an indecipherable look from you that only tightens my chest more. Any questions about Linda or my reasons for returning are quickly put down by your mother, scolding sternly in the name of tact and consideration of my feelings. 

I can't do it, Ray. 

I can't take this from you. I of all people know how much it hurts to become _persona non grata_ in your own home, to see looks that were once filled with camaraderie turn cold and hostile. If it kills me, I can't ask you to give that up for me. 

Someday you'd end up hating me for it. I'd end up hating myself. 

Dinner's over and I don't know whether to be glad for the end of this silent torture, or miserable at the approach of the inevitable. 

I thank your mother for her hospitality and, as if in a dream... or is it the surreal and inescapable slow-motion of a nightmare?... hear you reaching for your keys and announcing your intention to drive me home. 

Like always. But not like always. 

Oh, Ray, I don't think I can do this.... 

_finis_

* * *

_(Ack!!! Wait! Wait! Put down those pitchforks! Remember: if you kill me *now*, there's no more story. Riiiight???)_

Dianne  
_"Just call me Scheherazade..." g_  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed, we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	6. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #6

# Clutching at a Dream

**WARNINGS: PG-rated M/M angst**. (Yup, that's it ;-) Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," and "Living in the Real World." 

* * *

_O.K., you all know the drill-- Ray's turn. I'm beating their little hearts bloody, I know. So sue me :-p Sex in part 8, I _promise_! (both dsx and dief versions, never fear!) I'm writing it right now, I swear.... _

No song again. So hum something sad and tragic and heart-rending and Italian to yourself as you read g-- most operas will do just fine. 

* * *

# Clutching at a Dream 

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

Something happened at the Consulate, didn't it, Benny? 

You were so happy when I left you there and when I return less than an hour later there's such a sadness in your eyes. But it's only there for a moment before it's erased by one of those heart-stopping smiles of yours. So I tell myself I'd just imagined it. 

But that didn't keep me from grabbing your hand as soon as you got in and holding it tight. Like I was trying to hold on to you, as if I knew already that I might be losing you. The warmth of your hand in mine, of your eyes meeting mine, reassures me. But later I'll look back and see that this is where it began. I'm a detective, Benny. It's what I do, right? 

You obviously want to talk, and I know we need to... but I'm so afraid.... 

So I tell you about Ma's invitation. She caught me just as I was heading back out here, seconds from making a clean getaway. She wanted to know where I'd been all night, so I told her I'd had to pick you up and drive you-- that you were back in town. I even managed to keep it from being a lie. She was thrilled to know you were back-- she really loves you, you know-- but then there was this other look, one I didn't understand. One I didn't want to understand. 

Did I tell you I think she knows? I mean about us? I don't know how, must be some mother thing and I really _don't_ want to know if I'm right, so I kept going out the door-- promising to drag you back for dinner and making good my escape. 

But now I'm not sure she has anything to worry about. 

So I ask you right out how things went, but instead of saying anything you just start in about getting your old job back.... 

Job? What job? That was a _joke_.... 

Oh, God, is that what being with me is going to mean for you? Being stuck playing _doorman_ for the rest of your life? You're a good cop, Benny. The best, dammit! How can I ask you to give that up for me? 

It's then that I realize that I'm losing you all over again. And that if I really love you, I'll let you go. 

Hell, if I really love you I'll _make_ you go. Only I don't think I can be that noble, Benny. 

But right now I don't care. Just for now I want to live in the moment, not to waste a single precious second. To hold you. To hold you tight and pretend that I'll never have to let go. 

I'm not even sure what I want, Benny. Hell, I've never done this before! But I find myself clinging desperately to the illusion. I know somewhere down deep that I'm going to have to let you go, you deserve so much better than this. But knowing that only makes me more determined to have one moment... one night with you-- something to remember long after life's ceased to be worth living. 

So I try to brazen it out. 

When I talk to Welsh I don't say anything, just that I'm helping you settle back in. I'm not gonna pin you down. I won't risk a star-crossed career that deserves better and a reputation that has had to endure too much prejudice already. I don't care _how_ nice Canadians are, Benny, something like this can't help you any. Especially not if the Dragon Lady takes it badly.... 

And, you know? Given who you chose over her, somehow I can't see her wishing you a heartfelt "Congratulations!" 

When Welsh accepts you back as my sorta-kinda partner again, suddenly all the damn paperwork's worth it. It helps me maintain the fantasy, you see? 

And then we're back at the station and I'm bitching about where the damn brass is keeping their _heads_ nowadays and you're lecturing me about respect and proper etiquette, sitting across the desk in _your_ spot.... And, oh, Benny-- why can't this just go on forever? 

But you're having to dodge questions right and left and I can see how it's wearing on you, so I send you home.... 

Only you don't go. 

I get home an hour later and you never even showed. I reassure Ma that you'd never miss dinner-- Mr. Reliable would stand her up? Yeah, right... -- while I'm desperately trying to reassure myself that you're coming back, at least for tonight. I have this ridiculous, horrible sick feeling that I'll never see you again. 

Then you show and I swear my heart starts beating again and I'd never even noticed it'd quit. And the first words from you are about how you went and got your old apartment back... and my blood runs cold. Damn, Benny, I knew this was happening... I've known it all day, but somehow that makes it all real. It's not just me. _You've_ realized it just won't work.... 

And as I fend off Frannie's protests I can't look you in the eye. 

During dinner I try to regain the fantasy, try to take comfort from the way you seem to be genuinely enjoying yourself, in your quiet way. You're even smiling now and then... you've come a long way from that first time, huh? 

And I see you've turned fending off my sister into a real art form. When I hear her start in my first instinct is to try to save you; my second that I might somehow give us away by doing so. But you don't need saving, do you? I watch you dodge her blatant come-ons with an innocence too careful to be real. It makes me want to crow with pride. 

Damn you're good! And you're mine, all mine. 

I catch your eye across the table and we share a secret, private look.... 

Then Ma says something. And as I turn to her I see that sadness... but I am _not_ going to deal with it now, I'm not. Maybe I'll never have to. 

And now I'm back to reality again, damn it. Sometimes reality just _bites_, Benny. 

You're reassuring little Rosa that Dief's on his way and that catches me by surprise. For a moment I think, hope... but no, you would have done that back at the consulate this morning, right? Back in the lingering, perfect glow of this morning when you reapplied for your old job and before you realized... before it hit you what you were giving up... and what you were returning to.... 

Suddenly Ma's best lasagna tastes like dog food and I can't choke down any more. 

Before I even realize it, I'm driving you home. We're in the car and... oh, God, Benny I know I should... but I'm too desperate to hold on to this last moment for as long as I possibly can to speak. 

I pull up in front of your apartment for what may be the last time and I _know_ my heart is breaking, Benny, I can feel it cracking right open... and I can only nod dumbly as I hear you speak the words... giving them a hellish reality with an angel's voice.... 

"Ray, we need to talk." 

_finis_

* * *

_(It's coming, it's coming already! Geez! Who slipped uppers to my Muse this weekend anyway? *Huh*??? looks about accusingly)_

Dianne  
_"Just call me Scheherazade..." g_  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed, we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	7. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #7:

# Libera Me

**WARNING: Short, completely PG-rated angsting. M/M situation implied but not in evidence. **Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," and "Clutching at a Dream"-- whew!-- but probably can do fine on its own, actually. 

* * *

_O.k., you're nice. You write and say nice things about my stories so that I keep scribbling away. Once they were together and happy, you wanted a more... um... "adult" piece... a dsx post... fine... _

So what do I give you? Ray's mom. g 

No, no, don't shoot the messenger! Can *I* help who starts spilling their guts in my head? (blinks, pauses, now *there's* a lovely image for you!) I'll get to the 'good stuff', I promise! (If for no other reason than Marina will hunt me down and kill me if I don't waves at Marina g.) 

Tonight's musical selection is "Libera Me" from Faure's Requiem Mass. Now don't freak, it's _not_ a death story. I don't do death stories. It's not even particularly sad-- it just reflects my weird tastes in music ;-) It's my favorite piece from my favorite Mass and I'm the author, so _deal_. 

I use Latin in the text, the way I learned it. I've given a _very_ free- hand translation into English at the end-- basically I just went through and did it myself. I took three years of Latin in a Catholic high school and went on to get a master's in Religion. I therefore decided I could fake it. I'm sure I botched _something_, either here or in the text; feel free to correct me if you like. (And yes, that was a blatant ploy for responses to my story... so there! ;-) 

Italian translations courtesy the LOGOS Dictionary (http://dictionary.logos.it/query.html) and my combination of Spanish and Latin grammar and good old BS ;-) I put them at the end too. 

A big TYK to Chris K. for beta-ing for me, but anything still in here is my fault, not hers. (waves Bwhahaha! I've corrupted her into committing fic too now! I may be doomed, but I'm hauling her down with me!!! ;-))) 

[Oh, and Chris K. later told me she begs to differ... she claims to have corrupted *me*... and, well, she has a _certain_ point... g] 

(sigh And I *know* the notes ended up longer than the text-- wanna make something of it??? g) 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# Libera Me

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

_"I think Ma knows....   
She hasn't said anything and I'm sure as hell not going to bring it up.   
But sometimes I catch her looking at me and her eyes are so sad...." 

> -- Ray, "On My Own"

_

* * *

> _Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna,_

In Nomine Patrio, et Filio, et Spiritu Sanctu... Oh, Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, what am I going to do? 

He's my son and I love him with all my heart but, Mamma mia, what has he done now? 

He was so sad, so heartbroken when Benton left. He tried to say it was nothing much, that he was happy for his friend, but I'm his mother and I knew better. How could I not see how he grieved for the friend he had lost? 

But it was more than that, and-- Dio aiuta mi-- I knew that too. 

> _in die illa tremenda, in die illa,_  
_quando coeli movendi sunt, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra._

His heart was broken, Madre. It was as if Benton had taken his soul away when he left, and I worried, I worried so, but there was nothing I could do. 

I prayed. You know that. I prayed every night and every day for my son, for the pain to stop tearing him up inside, for God to have mercy on him. He is my son. How could I not want to see him happy? 

Then Benton came back and I couldn't pretend anymore. 

They didn't say anything at first, but they didn't have to. Does he think I raised five children and any of them can keep secrets from me? 

He _loves_ Benton, Madre. God help them, they're in love. 

> _Dum veneris judicare saeculum per ignem._

I know it's wrong. I lay awake all last night fearing for my Raymundo's soul. And Benton's too. He is a good man, Madre, a responsible, virtuous, caring man. I love them both, and had God made my child a daughter there is no one I would rather see her marry. 

But he is not and now they will both spend eternity in Hell. 

> _Tremens, tremens factus sum ego et timeo,_   
_dum discussio venerit atque ventura ira._

How can I want to take away the joy in my child's eyes? His soul is back and whole... and damned. 

This life is short, Madre, and eternity is very long-- I know what I must do. I must make him see reason, I must stop this. I must do everything I can to tear out my baby's heart so I can save his soul. 

> _Dies illa, dies irae,_   
_calamitatis et miseria,_

Oh Madre di Dio, I don't know if I can do it. I try to keep the vision of Hell before me, so that my fear can give me strength, but when I see them.... 

Oh Mamma, they're so happy, so _right_. 

You have a Son too, Madre. How can you let Him do this to mine? How can your Gesu bring them together only to tear them apart? How can you let Him? You have to understand the pain I feel, Madre di Dolores. 

He's not God, Madre, he's just a man and I'm afraid such suffering may kill him. 

> _Dies illa, dies magna, _  
_et amara, amara valde._

I went to the Padre. I went as if I could say confession for my son, anything to keep from doing what I know I must. The Padre, he took me aside to his office to talk. I told him, Madre, and waited for the shock in his eyes, but it never came. 

He was surprised, of course, who wouldn't be? But he just looked at me with comforting eyes. I told him that I knew what I must do. I'm a good Catholic, Mamma, I know what they are doing is a horrible sin and I told him that. 

And then I broke down crying. 

Father Behan, he asked me why I was crying. Why would I not be? My son, my baby was going to Hell... and for love. 

Then he asked me what I thought of Benton. 

> _Requiem aeterna dona eis, Domine,_   
_et lux perpetua luceat eis, luceat eis._

Father Behan says it may not be a sin at all. I argued with him, Madre, I told him he was wrong. But the words he was saying, God help me, they made sense. 

I'm still afraid, Madre. I want to believe that my prayers are answered, that God will let my Raymundo keep his heart and his soul together. Madre mia, I want to believe so much! 

But what if this is a temptation? What if Father Behan is wrong? How can I risk my child's hope of heaven? 

> _Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna,_

Madre, I went to the priest. You saw me, Santa Vergine, I went to the priest and asked and he said they could be together. I'm a good Catholic, Mamma. So is my Raymundo. And Benton is a very good man, almost a saint already. 

> _in die illa tremenda, in die illa,_   
_quando coeli movendi sunt, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra._

So I make a new prayer now, Madre, to you-- mother to Mother. I know you would have done anything, anything at all to spare your Son His suffering if you could. What mother would not? So I ask you Mother, please. Now you are in heaven, you can talk to your Son, you can make this right. 

> _Dum veneris judicare saeculum per ignem._

If the Padre is wrong, if Your Son is angry for the sins they do, then give the punishment to me. Blame me because I did not stop them. Promise me you will not send my baby to Hell for loving Benton. Show mercy to another mother. 

> _Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna._  
_Libera me, Domine._

_Per favore, Madre?_

_finis_

* * *

> _**Libera Me/Free Me** _
> 
> Free me, Lord, from eternal death,  
on that momentous day, on that day,  
when the heavens shake, when the heavens and earth shake.  
While the sins of the world are judged by fire.  

> 
> I am trembling, trembling and I fear,  
while my sins are judged and wrath approaches. (?)  
On that day, on the day of wrath,  
calamities and misery,  
On that day, on that great day,  
and bitterness, exceeding bitterness.  

> 
> Give them eternal peace, Lord,  
And shine eternal light, eternal light upon them.  

> 
> Free me, Lord, from eternal death,  
on that momentous day, on that day,  
when the heavens shake, when the heavens and earth shake.  
While the sins of the world are judged by fire.  

> 
> Free me, Lord, from eternal death.  
Free me, Lord.

* * *

O.K., author's confession time: I don't speak Italian so I wrote Ma Vecchio's parts in Spanish and then translated them word by word... if that shows, I apologize! ;-) 

> Santa Maria -- Holy Mary  
Madre di Dio -- Mother of God  
Mamma mia -- my Mama ;-)  
Dio aiuta mi -- God help me  
Gesu -- Jesus  
Madre di Dolores -- Mother of Sorrows  
Padre -- Father (i.e. priest)  
Santa Vergine -- Holy Virgin  
Per favore -- Please  

> 
> In Nomine Patrio, et Filio, et Spiritu Sanctu -- Latin again In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit

_finis_

* * *

_More to come, never fear..._

Dianne  
_"Just call me Scheherazade..." g_  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I had to. I was depressed. When depressed, we must dance and throw a party." -- Chris 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	8. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #8:

# Last Night of the World -- (DIEF Version)

**WARNING: Long, R-rated M/M situation.**Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," and "Libera Me." 

* * *

_O.K., this is it. The one you've all been waiting for waves at Marina againg-- the DSX piece. However... _

> **For those of you who've been sending me such very nice comments and are not into DSX-level/NC-17-rated stuff, I've cut down a DIEF version for you-- consider it "LNOTW-Lite" (hey, I couldn't leave you stranded, right? ;-) About half the length-- and nothing more explicit than some serious kissing. If you want the full-length, NC-17-rated version instead, it's on this archive too.**

It reads basically like all the rest-- (Ray's) first person point of view and all.... blushes What can I say? Just because things are finally getting, um, 'interesting', are the guys gonna give me a _break_ here? *Nooooooo...!* rolled eyes, martyred author sigh 

Tonight's musical selection is a duet from the musical "Miss Saigon." In this one the words don't so much follow along as set a mood... so... well... that's what they're there for, o.k.? ;-) In order not to break things up too much I put them at the end, rather than cut through the way I had originally planned. 

A big TYK and a small salaam to Marina (T'Mar) for beta-ing for me, harassing me, and promising me I wouldn't hideously embarrass myself by posting this. But, if I do, that's still my fault, not hers. 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. I'll put them back, when I'm done-- only slightly mussed and very happy, I promise. 

Criticism accepted. Responses of any kind appreciated. Kind words may even convince me to crawl out from under the really, really big rock I'm gonna hide under now and keep going with this. ;- 

* * *

# Last Night of the World -- (DIEF Version)

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

As we reach to top of the stairs and you push open the door, I can't get over the feeling of deja vu, of everything being back just as it always was... 

Until you turn to me in the reflected light of the streetlamps outside and your eyes are so sad, so haunted. And I know what you're going to say and I can't bear to hear it... not now. I know it will have to come between us in the morning, but not now. Let us have this one perfect night, o.k.? 

"Ray, I don't think...." Your whole heart is in your eyes as I silence you with one finger to your lips. 

"I know, Benny, I know. But not now, o.k.?" I let my need, my pleading show openly in my face. "Give me tonight, just tonight, please? Let me love you this once?" 

And, oh God, your eyes are shining as you nod silently. There are tears hiding in those beautiful blue eyes and it's all I can do to choke down my own because that's not what I want. There'll be a lifetime for tears later, my love. Not now. Not tonight. 

So I do the only think I can think of, I lean forward and press my lips to yours. 

And... oh, Benny... who would have thought you knew how to kiss like this? ...your mouth opening, pulling gently at my lower lip with your teeth until my mouth opens and those soft warm lips curl in a smile as your tongue pushes in and runs along mine. Mine responds of its own volition, sliding into that hot moist cavern as you trace the roof of my mouth and back out to the corner along the edges of my lips and I'm falling in deeper and deeper and I'm drowning I can't breathe but I don't have to somehow. I can suddenly breath like a fish here underwater, sliding down deeper into the dark coolness, breathing only you.... 

You pull away suddenly, desperately, and I 'm gasping for air after all, deprived of that magic connection, and my head is spinning and I realize I've grabbed on to you for support. And you to me. We're standing pressed together and if either of us moved we'd both fall flat. As I rest my chin on your strong, shaking shoulder, all I can hear is your desperate breathing echoing mine. 

We stand there for I don't know how long just being together, breathing together. Until finally I pull back slowly, hands still on your shoulders to look in your eyes. The naked emotion showing there scares me. You're so incredibly vulnerable, like I've never seen you ever, and I'm paralyzed, held motionless by the love I see there.... 

Then you smile so beautifully, so fragilely that my heart just stops. You trail a finger down the side of my face and dart forward for another kiss. A brush of the lips this time, so quick and light I can't even respond. 

But, like magic, like some ridiculous fairytale, my heart restarts. Only I think it's racing now and, oh, God, Benny-- I think you may just kill me yet. I feel my mouth moving to answer that smile and I realize I can move again, can speak. The spell is broken. 

"I love you." 

And the smile on your face cranks up another notch. The simple, pure _joy_ that hearing those words brings to your face makes me want to laugh, to cry. To stand on the rooftop and howl at the world. I feel ten feet tall and lighter than air as I wrap my arms around you and pull you tight. 

I pull away slowly to look in your eyes. Suddenly it's all so real and so terribly overwhelming. "Benny...." I swallow hard and try to speak past the sudden dryness in my mouth. "I don't know... . I mean, I've never...." And I can see you know what I'm trying to say because you're swallowing hard too. "You...?" I manage to ask without asking. 

You shake your head and bite at your lower lip, and it's such a sweet, little-boy gesture it makes me laugh softly, tenderly. "Then we'll just have to work it out as we go, o.k.?" You nod again quickly, grateful, I think, not to have to speak. Well you were never the one to do the talking were you? And I'm not wasting a second of this night on any Inuit stories.... 

I'm shaking as I reach for the buttons on your shirt. I'm shaking and if it meant the world I couldn't stop. 

* * *

I'm not scared of this, not for myself. I _should_ be, somehow. I'm standing on the edge of a cliff looking over into darkness that could be anything, there could be anything at all down there, I have no idea, and I'm stepping off anyway, without a thought, without a care in the world for myself. I should be terrified, but I'm not. It doesn't matter what's below. Whatever of you I can have I want, I want more than I want air or life itself. And I can't be afraid of you, of anything you'd ever do to me. 

No the shaking is for you, for this moment. Because I'm lost and utterly helpless and this is so very, very important. It's probably the most important thing I'll ever do in my life and I want so very, very badly to do it right... and I don't even know what that means. 

So I spread my hands out against your chest instead, feeling the warm strength of you through the fabric there, and lean forward for another kiss. And I try not to think, not to plan, just to follow whatever happens, because you're here and I'm here and whatever happens will be perfect. 

* * *

You're so beautiful. How could I have always known that and yet still never seen? 

I can't believe we're actually here, that you're actually pressed up against me, touching me. Letting me touch that perfect body... you're beautiful. You're so incredibly beautiful. And for this one moment in time, impossibly, you're mine. 

And I feel so awed by your love, your trust, your desire... desire for _me_. I know you would never go in for casual sex, Benny, I don't think you could. But we both know this is no one-night stand. Even if it's over by morning this is forever.... 

* * *

And for a moment I hesitate. I was raised to believe this was an unspeakable sin... but that seems so long ago and so far away. I should be horrified at my own actions, not only damning myself but corrupting an innocent, dragging you-- you, of all people-- down into hell with me. But that all seems so eerily unreal. Like a childish nightmare in the bright light of day. 

In the bright light of you. 

Try as I might I can't feel this is wrong. It's not a rebellion, not a denial or defiance. It's a simple truth-- this is right; this is beautiful. This is sacred. A truth as sound and as patently obvious as the turning of the earth or the beating of my heart. 

* * *

I turn my head slightly, placing soft kisses across your cheek until I can whisper in your ear. 

"That was incredible, Benny." 

I can feel you shiver at the words as they brush across your skin and I can't resist. Tracing my tongue around the pale curve of your ear I add those three little words.... 

"Thank you kindly." 

And you laugh. 

I'm not sure I've ever heard you laugh that free, that real. You're laughing so hard you can't stop and I can't help but join you, wrestling you over on the bed beneath me and doing my best to kiss you senseless between snickers. 

* * *

Suddenly exhausted-- from the day, the night before, the tension, the release-- I collapse against you, my arms around you tight and my head falling to your shoulder where it fits as though the spot were specially made for it. 

Still breathing hard, you slowly manage to work your arms around me to return the embrace and I feel like my heart will just burst. Lying here in your arms, feeling you, breathing you, pressed together like we have never, could never be separated. Oh God, oh Benny.... All there is in this world is you and me and if I died tonight in your arms I swear I could want nothing more out of this life.... 

_finis_

* * *

The Last Night of the World  
_From the musical "Miss Saigon"_

In a place that won't let us feel,  
In a life where nothing seems real,  
I have found you,  
I have found you. 

In a world that's moving too fast,  
In a world where nothing can last,  
I will hold you,  
I will hold you. 

Our lives will change when tomorrow comes.  
Tonight our hearts drown the distant drums.  
And we'll have music all right,  
Tearing the night.... 

A song, played on a solo saxophone--  
A crazy sound,  
A lonely sound,  
A cry that tells us love goes on and on.  
Played on a solo saxophone--  
It's telling me to hold you tight  
And dance like it's the last night of the world. 

Dreams were all I ever knew.  
Dreams you won't need when I'm through.  
Anywhere we may be  
I will sing with you.... 

A song, played on a solo saxophone--  
So stay with me, and hold me tight,  
And dance like it's the last night of the world. 

_finis_

* * *

_(What do you *mean* "But what happened in the morning?"???? You mean I have to keep _going_??? ARGH! Help!!!)_

Dianne  
_Who was just going to write _one_ little Song Challenge piece... _  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"[My mind]'s not in the gutter, It's in the sewer. It's warmer, and I have more friends there." ; - ] --Kender 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	9. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #8:

# Last Night of the World

**WARNING: Long, NC-17-rated explicit M/M situation. ***If that's a problem for you, read the "Lite" version instead" ;-)***** Follows the DIEF-posted stories: "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," and "Libera Me." 

* * *

_O.K., this is it. The one you've all been waiting for waves at Marina againg-- the DSX piece. _

It reads basically like all the rest-- (Ray's) first person point of view and all.... blushes What can I say? Just because things are finally getting, um, 'interesting', are the guys gonna give me a _break_ here? *Nooooooo...!* rolled eyes, martyred author sigh 

Tonight's musical selection is a duet from the musical "Miss Saigon." In this one the words don't so much follow along as set a mood... so... well... that's what they're there for, o.k.? ;-) In order not to break things up too much I put them at the end, rather than cut through the way I had originally planned. 

A big TYK and a small salaam to Marina (T'Mar) for beta-ing for me, harassing me, and promising me I wouldn't hideously embarrass myself by posting this. But, if I do, that's still my fault, not hers. 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. I'll put them back, when I'm done-- only slightly mussed and very happy, I promise. 

Criticism accepted. Responses of any kind appreciated. Kind words may even convince me to crawl out from under the really, really big rock I'm gonna hide under now and keep going with this. ;- 

* * *

# Last Night of the World

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

As we reach to top of the stairs and you push open the door, I can't get over the feeling of deja vu, of everything being back just as it always was... 

Until you turn to me in the reflected light of the streetlamps outside and your eyes are so sad, so haunted. And I know what you're going to say and I can't bear to hear it... not now. I know it will have to come between us in the morning, but not now. Let us have this one perfect night, o.k.? 

"Ray, I don't think...." Your whole heart is in your eyes as I silence you with one finger to your lips. 

"I know, Benny, I know. But not now, o.k.?" I let my need, my pleading show openly in my face. "Give me tonight, just tonight, please? Let me love you this once?" 

And, oh God, your eyes are shining as you nod silently. There are tears hiding in those beautiful blue eyes and it's all I can do to choke down my own because that's not what I want. There'll be a lifetime for tears later, my love. Not now. Not tonight. 

So I do the only think I can think of, I lean forward and press my lips to yours. 

And... oh, Benny... who would have thought you knew how to kiss like this? ...your mouth opening, pulling gently at my lower lip with your teeth until my mouth opens and those soft warm lips curl in a smile as your tongue pushes in and runs along mine. Mine responds of its own volition, sliding into that hot moist cavern as you trace the roof of my mouth and back out to the corner along the edges of my lips and I'm falling in deeper and deeper and I'm drowning I can't breathe but I don't have to somehow. I can suddenly breath like a fish here underwater, sliding down deeper into the dark coolness, breathing only you.... 

You pull away suddenly, desperately, and I 'm gasping for air after all, deprived of that magic connection, and my head is spinning and I realize I've grabbed on to you for support. And you to me. We're standing pressed together and if either of us moved we'd both fall flat. As I rest my chin on your strong, shaking shoulder, all I can hear is your desperate breathing echoing mine. 

We stand there for I don't know how long just being together, breathing together. Until finally I pull back slowly, hands still on your shoulders to look in your eyes. The naked emotion showing there scares me. You're so incredibly vulnerable, like I've never seen you ever, and I'm paralyzed, held motionless by the love I see there.... 

Then you smile so beautifully, so fragilely that my heart just stops. You trail a finger down the side of my face and dart forward for another kiss. A brush of the lips this time, so quick and light I can't even respond. 

But, like magic, like some ridiculous fairytale, my heart restarts. Only I think it's racing now and, oh, God, Benny-- I think you may just kill me yet. I feel my mouth moving to answer that smile and I realize I can move again, can speak. The spell is broken. 

"I love you." 

And the smile on your face cranks up another notch. The simple, pure _joy_ that hearing those words brings to your face makes me want to laugh, to cry. To stand on the rooftop and howl at the world. I feel ten feet tall and lighter than air as I wrap my arms around you and pull you tight. 

And as I do I can feel you hard against me and the realization sends a stabbing pleasure-terror to the very bottom of my soul. 

I pull away slowly to look in your eyes. Suddenly it's all so real and so terribly overwhelming. "Benny...." I swallow hard and try to speak past the sudden dryness in my mouth. "I don't know... . I mean, I've never...." And I can see you know what I'm trying to say because you're swallowing hard too. "You...?" I manage to ask without asking. 

You shake your head and bite at your lower lip, and it's such a sweet, little-boy gesture it makes me laugh softly, tenderly. "Then we'll just have to work it out as we go, o.k.?" You nod again quickly, grateful, I think, not to have to speak. Well you were never the one to do the talking were you? And I'm not wasting a second of this night on any Inuit stories.... 

I'm shaking as I reach for the buttons on your shirt. I'm shaking and if it meant the world I couldn't stop. 

I'm not scared of this, not for myself. I _should_ be, somehow. I'm standing on the edge of a cliff looking over into darkness that could be anything, there could be anything at all down there, I have no idea, and I'm stepping off anyway, without a thought, without a care in the world for myself. I should be terrified, but I'm not. It doesn't matter what's below. Whatever of you I can have I want, I want more than I want air or life itself. And I can't be afraid of you, of anything you'd ever do to me. 

No the shaking is for you, for this moment. Because I'm lost and utterly helpless and this is so very, very important. It's probably the most important thing I'll ever do in my life and I want so very, very badly to do it right... and I don't even know what that means. 

So I spread my hands out against your chest instead, feeling the warm strength of you through the fabric there, and lean forward for another kiss. And I try not to think, not to plan, just to follow whatever happens, because you're here and I'm here and whatever happens will be perfect. 

And it's working. My hands have undone your shirt without me even noticing and the shaking is much less as I slide my hands around you, under the shirt, over the undershirt, one layer closer to you. You break the kiss, pulling away just enough to get your hands between us and you're giving the unbuttoning of my shirt far more attention than it could possibly deserve. So my lips slide down across your cheek, your jaw, unwilling to let go. Down along the side of your throat and down to the hollow where your shoulder begins. 

And now you're the one that's shaking. 

Suddenly I want to see you, feel you against me. I pull back, sliding the shirt off your shoulders and pulling the undershirt quickly over your head. And my breath catches in my throat. You're so beautiful. How could I have always known that and yet still never seen? 

You take advantage of my daze to strip me down to the waist as well. And as you move forward I finally manage to look at your eyes and I see a hunger there that makes me shiver. And then you're kissing my chest, over and over, slowly, with an open wet mouth-- a tracing of your tongue against my skin here and there and I'm panting, I can't get a deep breath. Then that warm moist pressure surrounds a nipple. 

I hear an agonized, chest-deep moan... and I realize it's coming from me. 

Your tongue touches ever so lightly, quickly, teasing the tip mercilessly, and my hands come down to cradle your head, fingers running through that thick hair, stroking mindlessly as I gasp out your name. Oh, Benny, I never knew _anything_ could feel like this... much less _this_. 

When your mouth moves to the other side I shudder in relief, in stark need. I feel the exquisite tightening run up my thighs and down my stomach and suddenly I'm not sure how long my legs will hold me. So I pull your head away, gently, and pull you back up to my mouth, holding you tight enough to feel my hardness, my need. 

As we part I can only whisper... 

"I want to see you. All of you." 

Your eyes widen but it's not fear I see there. I intercept your hand as it moves to your belt and wordlessly you let go, let my hand rest there for a moment before my fingers start to work at the buckle. The button slips free and my hand slides easily down the zipper, a thrill running along my spine as I feel the hardness beneath, as your stomach contracts in a gasp at the touch. The pants fall with a whispering sound and you bend down, pulling off shoes and socks and freeing your legs from them. 

Then you stand up, wearing only your shorts now, and you go still, deathly still, as my hand reaches for the band. 

I pull them out and down quickly, unable to wait, and you kick them away automatically and I just stand there staring, because I've never seen anything so incredible, so perfect, in all my life. 

My eyes slide up and down over every inch of that gorgeous body and as they reach your face I see you're blushing. I can see your hands twitch as you fight the urge to cover yourself and you look so shy, so uncertain. So embarrassed? Oh Benny, how could you possibly be embarrassed when you look like this? I'm looking at a body from a sculptor's dream, something carved in marble and placed on a pedestal so the whole world can gaze at it. But you're real, living, breathing flesh and you're here with me, only me. 

"Oh Benny, you're so beautiful." 

That breathless whisper deepens the blush immediately and I have to fight the urge to laugh out loud as I see the shade of your cheeks darken. Damn, I wouldn't have bet you had that much blood _free_ at the moment, Benny love. 

And at that thought my eyes are drawn again to your...cock? How can such a lovely thing be called by such a crude name? Because it _is_ lovely, Benny. Some tiny voice in the back of my brain can't believe I'm standing here staring at another guy's cock and thinking these things... and the rest of my mind can't see how anyone could deny it. And as I look at it standing there so proudly from the soft dark curls, moving gently with each breath you take... I want... I want to touch it... to... to.... 

"Your turn, Ray." 

Startled by your voice I look up and, caught by those impossibly blue eyes again, it takes a second to process the words. Oh... yeah,.. right.... 

But as I move to quickly shrug out of the rest of my clothes, almost annoyed at this silly distraction from my regard of you, your hand stops me. I blink for a moment, seeing your raised eyebrow, then grin sheepishly and shrug. Turnabout is fair play, huh? 

And as you uncover me slowly, with the same care and attention I showed, I could almost think you _were_ getting your revenge. 

Standing stripped on my desk in the middle of the damned precinct at lunchtime I wouldn't feel as incredibly _naked_, exposed, as I do watching your eyes running over me. I swear I can feel them as they move along my skin and I'm so nervous I want to just turn around and duck down and hide. O.K., o.k., revenge is sweet, even if it's unintentional on your part... although, if it were anyone else.... 

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Ray." 

And suddenly I want to shake you and laugh out loud because that's just ridiculous, but you said it with such feeling, such sincerity I think I may cry instead. So I pull you close and kiss you hard, feeling your skin against mine down our whole bodies, and I was wrong before... _this_ is heaven, Benny. 

I can't believe we're actually here, that you're actually pressed up against me, touching me. Letting me touch that perfect body... you're beautiful. You're so incredibly beautiful. And for this one moment in time, impossibly, you're mine. 

And I feel so awed by your love, your trust, your desire... desire for _me_. I know you would never go in for casual sex, Benny, I don't think you could. But we both know this is no one-night stand. Even if it's over by morning this is forever.... 

My hands are running over the silky smooth skin of your back, pausing with an icy stab of guilt right in my stomach as they reach a scar just at the edge of your spine, but you immediately pull me closer, kiss me harder, as if to drive the thought, the guilt, the doubt out of my head with just your lips and it's working, as my hands slide lower, feeling the muscles shift ever so slightly under the skin of your lower back, until they come to rest on the soft swell of your ass. From there they start to slide naturally forward, around your sides to the front.... 

And for a moment I hesitate. I was raised to believe this was an unspeakable sin... but that seems so long ago and so far away. I should be horrified at my own actions, not only damning myself but corrupting an innocent, dragging you-- you, of all people-- down into hell with me. But that all seems so eerily unreal. Like a childish nightmare in the bright light of day. 

In the bright light of you. 

Try as I might I can't feel this is wrong. It's not a rebellion, not a denial or defiance. It's a simple truth-- this is right; this is beautiful. This is sacred. A truth as sound and as patently obvious as the turning of the earth or the beating of my heart. 

So I leave one hand at the small of your back and let the other trail forward, finding its own way to the heat of your shaft. It's soft, the skin so very soft, and a part of me wonders why that surprises me so, but the rest is caught up in the sigh, almost a cry, in my ear, against my chest, as you push forward into my hand. My fingers curl gently around you and I start moving slowly, up and down, until your breathing turns into a groan.... 

"Oh, Ray!" 

And pleasure shoots through my groin, nearly causing my legs to give way and robbing me of all conscious thought. 

When my mind restarts a moment later you're looking at me, your eyes dark and shining with a passion I think few people on this earth have ever seen. Your arms are on my shoulders and my hand has slipped away and you put your lips to mine for a short, sweet kiss before taking me by the hand and leading me over to that slab you call a bed. 

It's every bit as hard and uncomfortable as it ever looked and I couldn't care less at this moment as you draw me close so that we're touching along every inch, from our lips all the way down to our feet. 

And we're back to kissing... or rather you are as you roll over on me, desperately possessing my mouth, literally taking my breath away. I can only lie back gasping for air as you start working your way slowly down my chest again. The press of your mouth to my nipples pulls me up, my back arching into that caress without any effort on my part. But each is treated to a single touch and no more. 

My attention is torn between the whisper of your lips down my stomach and the excruciating ache building in my groin. I'm so damn hard it actually hurts and I know I can't stand much more of this, at the same time I can't bear to have it end. 

My dazed brain is brought back into focus by a terrible feeling of loss, and I finally manage to realize that you've stopped, we are no longer connected through the soft skin of your lips. I manage to force the muscles in my neck to curl my head up so that I can see you, my mouth opening to try to ask what's wrong, what happened... but what I see steals away any possibility of speech. 

You've moved down almost to the end of the bed, lying half-across my legs and looking at me... looking at my cock like you 're entranced, and then you look up at my eyes and I can see it there. A split second before you move I can see there what you're going to do and the thought alone is almost too much to comprehend.... 

But it can't begin to compare with the feeling of your lips as they kiss the tip, your tongue as it traces long slow streaks up the shaft, your mouth as it slides ever-so-slowly over the top and down, down.... 

I want to watch, to see this, because what part of my mind is still managing to think can't believe it's really happening. But my head is thrown back, muscles tight, pressing back into the pillow and I can only stare up at nothing as I say your name over and over, a whimper, a groan, a plea, a prayer.... 

...as every sensation, every thought, every bit of me is drawn into the pure tortured pleasure in my groin and explodes... 

My eyes open and I'm looking up into those heart-break blue eyes-- a little shy, a little uncertain, but still wide with passion. Digging up as much strength as I have left, I smile and reach up to meet your lips. There's a sharp taste in your mouth and as I explore it I suddenly realize that it's _me_-- and that only makes me want to kiss you harder. I turn my head slightly, placing soft kisses across your cheek until I can whisper in your ear. 

"That was incredible, Benny." 

I can feel you shiver at the words as they brush across your skin and I can't resist. Tracing my tongue around the pale curve of your ear I add those three little words.... 

"Thank you kindly." 

And you laugh. 

I'm not sure I've ever heard you laugh that free, that real. You're laughing so hard you can't stop and I can't help but join you, wrestling you over on the bed beneath me and doing my best to kiss you senseless between snickers. 

After a few moments I let go of your mouth reluctantly and slide myself down the bed, thrilling all over again to the feel of our skin gliding together. Before I even realize it, I'm in the same position you were, inches away from that beautiful cock. 

The laughter dies in your throat, but you're breathing no easier. Looking up at you I swallow hard just from pure nerves. I mean, what the heck do I know about.... 

You open your mouth, trying to find the breath to tell me it's all right, I don't have to, I don't somehow owe you this. But I _want_ this, so I take a deep breath to steady myself and answer your unspoken protest with my best leering grin. When the corners of your mouth start to turn up again, I look down to survey this new terrain. 

I tell myself it can't be that complicated. I mean how many blow jobs have I had in my life, right? What would _I_ like?.... But looking at you so close like this distracts me,. fills me with the urge to just explore you, to check out every minute detail. 

You gasp loudly and I realize my eyes aren't the only things exploring. My fingers are running lightly along the hot skin, tracing the veins beneath, playing with the ridge of foreskin near the top, running through the wiry curls of hair to hold the silky weight of your balls in my hand. 

You are moaning constantly now, murmuring things I can't make out, interspersed with 'love' and my name. My fingers run further down, along the skin below the balls and suddenly your hips jerk upward and my finger brushes the opening below.... 

But you're close now, very, very close, from the way your hands tremble as they twist in the sheets at your side and the way your eyes stare helplessly upward at nothing, your breath bare pants in your throat. 

I want to see you come. 

So I move up again, ever-so-gently pressing my lips to the head of your cock as I watch your beautiful, writhing face.... 

And your hips jerk again, hard, and you're sliding into my mouth and crying out so loudly the neighbors are gonna hear and my mouth fills with your come and I desperately try to swallow as quickly as I can. 

The silence and stillness afterward seems almost like a tangible thing. Letting you slip from my mouth I slide upward to place a kiss on those beautiful lips. 

Suddenly exhausted-- from the day, the night before, the tension, the release-- I collapse against you, my arms around you tight and my head falling to your shoulder where it fits as though the spot were specially made for it. 

Still breathing hard, you slowly manage to work your arms around me to return the embrace and I feel like my heart will just burst. Lying here in your arms, feeling you, breathing you, pressed together like we have never, could never be separated. Oh God, oh Benny.... All there is in this world is you and me and if I died tonight in your arms I swear I could want nothing more out of this life.... 

_finis_

* * *

The Last Night of the World  
_From the musical "Miss Saigon"_

In a place that won't let us feel,  
In a life where nothing seems real,  
I have found you,  
I have found you. 

In a world that's moving too fast,  
In a world where nothing can last,  
I will hold you,  
I will hold you. 

Our lives will change when tomorrow comes.  
Tonight our hearts drown the distant drums.  
And we'll have music all right,  
Tearing the night.... 

A song, played on a solo saxophone--  
A crazy sound,  
A lonely sound,  
A cry that tells us love goes on and on.  
Played on a solo saxophone--  
It's telling me to hold you tight  
And dance like it's the last night of the world. 

Dreams were all I ever knew.  
Dreams you won't need when I'm through.  
Anywhere we may be  
I will sing with you.... 

A song, played on a solo saxophone--  
So stay with me, and hold me tight,  
And dance like it's the last night of the world. 

_finis_

* * *

_(What do you *mean* "But what happened in the morning?"???? You mean I have to keep _going_??? ARGH! Help!!!)_

Dianne  
_Who was just going to write _one_ little Song Challenge piece... _  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"[My mind]'s not in the gutter, It's in the sewer. It's warmer, and I have more friends there." ; - ] --Kender 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	10. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #9:

#  What I Did For Love

**WARNING: PG-rated M/M angsting**. Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," "Libera Me," and any and all versions of "Last Night of the World." 

* * *

_O.K., this is getting silly. This series needs some sort of title, if for no other reason than that "Warning:" block above is getting ridiculously long. I've been thinking for three parts now and having no luck. Chris has been calling it the "Song Cycle" and, barring anything that sounds better, I think that's what I'll go for. However, should anyone else have an idea, feel free to send it in! (Yes, that's also another shameless ploy to get more story comments. ;-) _

And yes, I made up another Inuit saying wince-- sorry! because no one could help find me the deep philosophical quote I _know_ has to be out there somewhere. _Someone_ should have said it, dammit... and in better words than I managed! ;-) 

"What I Did for Love" is a great Sondheim song from the musical "A Chorus Line." 

The fact that this is still going is Due in no small part to those of you who keep harassing me (you know who you are!). If you didn't keep insisting someone else was enjoying this as well, I'd just wander off selfishly into day-dreamland all by myself. g 

(And a quick TYK to Chris K. who "meep!"ed at me at a critical point and kept the Frasers from wandering off in a weird direction. ;-) 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# What I Did For Love

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

> _Kiss today good-bye,_   
_And point me towards tomorrow._

Slipping out of your arms this morning was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life, Ray. 

I woke just before dawn to this feeling of completeness-- of _fullness_. It was as if I finally fit perfectly for the first time-- into your arms, into this body, into the world. I simply lay there for a moment, staring at nothing at all and feeling a soul-deep peace no prayer or blessing has ever given me. 

Then the corner of my eye caught on the handgrip of your gun, tangled still in your discarded clothes, lying where they had fallen on the floor.... And the peace was gone, replaced by a strangely-detached resolve that made me feel almost insubstantial, light-headed, empty. As if I wasn't even there in my body any more.... 

> _We did what we had to do._

You have a career, a family, a life... and I would not take any of those away from you for all the world. It had to be done and it had to be done quickly, before my control slipped and I let myself do something we would both eventually regret. 

Once I was up I could keep going. There was so little there, most of it still packed, that I had no trouble slipping back into my clothes, coldly suppressing the memory of your warm hands sliding them off me.... 

I stopped at the door, one hand on the knob, debating whether to turn back for just a minute. It seemed somehow that I should need that-- a last look, a last gaze, a kiss.... Something to carry with me. But I felt no such need, so I simply left. 

What I carry with me from this moment, and always shall, is the hollow place in my soul where you are not. 

> _And I can't regret what I did for love,_   
_What I did for love._

I have never been so alive as when I was in your arms, Ray. 

For all the pain I know I will feel, for the way I know that everything in the rest of my life will fall somehow in the shadow of this memory, there is no way that I can think of this time with you as anything but a gift--the most incredible, most important twenty-seven-and-a-half hours of my life.... 

The Inuit have a saying, Ray, that to truly _live_ for a moment makes a lifetime of just _being_ worthwhile. 

I hope they're right. It seems I'll have the opportunity to find out. 

> _Look, my eyes are dry._

"Son, what are you doing?" 

"What does it look like I'm doing, Dad?" 

"It looks like you're being a damn fool." 

"Dad, don't start...." 

"You're finally in love with a good, decent human being and you're walking away. I mean, sure he's American, but you can't have everything, you know." 

"I rather thought you'd be disgusted." 

"What? Because he's a man? Oh please, I taught you better than that!" 

"No, no you didn't." 

"Well I didn't teach you an attitude like _that_." 

"No, you didn't teach me much about relationships, did you?" 

"I thought I taught you not to run away from your problems." 

"I'm _not_ running...!" 

"Don't you take that tone with your father!" 

"Look, Dad. If there were any way to stay without destroying his life, believe me, I'd take it in a second. But I won't make him choose between me and the rest of his life. I can't do that to him." 

"Did it ever occur to you that he might not see it that way?" 

"That's what I'm afraid of, Dad...." 

> _The dream was ours to borrow._   
_It's as if we always knew._

I wake up at night in the guest room at the consulate and it's your eyes, those beautiful eyes, that haunt me. The love, the desperation, the wanting, the _needing_... and the understanding that it could not last. 

How can you possibly convey all that in a single gaze? How could our souls finally come together in one night, locking together so that there was nothing more that needed to be said? 

And how could a night of passion that came from such desperation, such sadness, such despair have been so full of joy? 

> _And I won't forget what I did for love,_   
_What I did for love._

We had something so magical, Ray, a talisman against all the pain and suffering of the world. 

I would give my soul to keep what we had last night, to hold it safe between us against anything and everything the world threw at us. Against anything that might try to pull us apart. For what we had, for what we could have had, I would willingly give my very soul, Ray. 

But I would not, could not give yours. 

> _Gone. Love is never gone._

All those noble-sounding cliches about giving up everything for love.... It's what I'm doing, I suppose, because it's what I cannot ask of you. 

But I don't _feel_ noble, Ray. I just feel empty. 

> _As we travel on,_   
_Love's what we'll remember._

But I will have this one night, this one moment for the rest of my life, and with that behind me, inside me, I think I can face anything, Ray. 

Even the terrible prospect of a life without you in it. 

> _Kiss today good-bye,_   
_And point me towards tomorrow._

Life goes on, after all, and there is always plenty to do.... 

Inspector Thatcher left that afternoon for Ottawa without, apparently, taking any action on my relocation request. I say apparently because Turnbull simply cannot remember whether she indicated that she _intended_ to sign it or _had_ actually signed it. By the time I had carefully attempted to walk him through his memories of the previous day he was no longer sure whether the comment in question involved _signing_ or _refusing_ to sign the paperwork... I'm afraid it's quite hopeless. 

Short of calling Ottawa and attempting to reach the Inspector at the conference or attempting to contact my current superior in the Territories to determine if anything has been mentioned, I will simply have to wait until she returns. Since I plan to prevail upon one or both of them to either cancel my reposting or to rescind my request-- the third such change I have attempted to make in the space of a month-- I feel it is better not to unduly aggravate them. 

This does, however leave me in an uncomfortable limbo for the next twenty-four hours at least.... 

> _Wish me luck-- the same to you._

You haven't called or visited and that's good. Frankly, I'm not sure I could manage..... Better to leave things as they are. 

I suppose I'm a coward, but I simply can't bear the thought of the sorrow in those eyes as you tried to explain what is so painfully obvious, to spell out what you would have to give up for me. 

I know, Ray, I know. There's no need to put either of us through that. 

> _Won't forget, can't regret_  
_What I did for love,_

"Well at least now you won't be standing here on sentry duty for the rest of your life." 

**. . .**

"I know you're not supposed to talk to anyone while you're on duty like this, but I'm dead, you know. I don't think that counts." 

**. . .**

"Fine. You always were a damn stubborn child." 

**. . .**

"I just don't want to see you throw this away. Love's too rare to go wasting it, boy." 

**. . .**

"Are you listening to me?" 

**. . .**

"Look, son, just remember: Stoic's one thing; stupid's another." 

**. . .**

"You know, sometimes I really worry about you...." 

> _What I did for love,_   
_What I did for love._

_finis_

* * *

Dianne  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
-*-"Yes, it's true that I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial."-*- 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	11. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #10:

#  Angel of the Morning 

**WARNING: PG-rated M/M angsting.** Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," "Libera Me," any and all versions of "Last Night of the World," and "What I Did for Love." (I know, I know... So I'm still listing them, so sue me. ;-) 

* * *

_Well, unless I hear better, (and no, as amusing as they were to read, "Angst: The Musical" and "Angsting to the Oldies" ain't gonna do it ;-))) I guess "Song Cycle" it is. _

"Angel of the Morning" is by Chip Taylor (or so I am told). Per several people who responded to my original posting, the version I probably learned was the remake by Juice Newton. Mrs. Fish gets the "Name That Tune" Gold Star of the Week for pinning the original artist as Merilee Rush. 

Yup, that's it. See when they come close together I get most of the blithering out of my system the first time... see? 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# Angel of the Morning

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

> _There'll be no strings to bind your hands,_  
_Not if my love can't bind your heart._

... And I wake up alone. 

Alone and cold and cursing God or fate or life or whatever decreed that the most perfect thing I'd ever found simply could not be. 

Your things are gone as though you'd never been here. I mean, it's not like there was that much to take. You'd barely arrived-- it couldn't have been that hard to leave. 

> _And there's no need to take a stand_  
_For it was I who chose to start._

I could almost tell myself that I'd dreamed the whole thing, your return, the love in your eyes, the feel of your body, the peace in my soul... if it weren't for waking up in your lousy excuse for a bed, for the neatly-folded stack of my clothes on the chair... for the smell of you on my skin. 

I don't blame you for disappearing. I can't go so far as to say I'm glad, but what would have happened if you'd stayed until morning? We're both grown-ups, Benny. We can both see that, even though everything has changed between us, nothing has changed for you. What would it have helped to say it? 

> _I see no need to take me home;_  
_I'm old enough to face the dawn._

I can just see you now: you, who can hardly manage to speak about feelings in the abstract, trying to find the words to tell me that you just can't throw your entire life away, not even for me? I know, Benny, love. I already know. There's no need to put either of us through the hell of saying it. 

> _Just call me angel of the morning, angel._  
_Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby._

And I'm not sure I could have held myself together anyway, Benny. Much as I understand, much as I would never _want_ you to do something like that, I'm afraid that I wouldn't be able to let you go. That I would fight the inevitable... and in doing so I might hurt you terribly. I don't want to see any more pain in your eyes than I already have. 

> _Just call me angel of the morning, angel,_  
_Then slowly turn away from me._

And more than anything I would never want you to stay out of guilt or pity or some horribly-misplaced sense of 'duty'. It would destroy me to think you were staying with me on principle-- the way you accept those asinine assignments from Thatcher without a murmur.... 

Instead we have last night, captured in time like a dream, a miracle. A precious piece of my soul that no one will _ever_ be able to take from me. 

> _Maybe the sun's light will be dim_  
_And it won't matter anyhow._

And life will go on. 

There will still be criminals to catch and paperwork to do and sunrises and sunsets and if none of it means anything anymore it will still be there... something to fill the time with. 

> _If morning's echo says we've sinned,_  
_Well it was what I wanted now._

I should go to confession now. Ease Ma's mind if she does suspect. 

I realize I'm laughing by the harsh echoes in the empty room. Since it's over, since there's no more chance.... If I go now and confess, do penance, receive absolution for this night, I can still save my soul. I can be right back in line waiting for heaven just as Ma always wanted. 

Yeah right. What soul? 

It seems so pointless, so silly to try to save something I no longer can even feel inside me. What do I care what happens after this anyway, Benny? 

Besides, you confess a sin. And I cannot, _will_ not, think of what we had as a sin... as anything less than the miracle it was. 

> _And if we're victims of the night,_  
_I won't be blinded by the light._

It _was_ wrong, Benny, but only as much as it hurt you. 

I was so selfish to demand that one night. It only made things worse, I know that. I can't say I regret doing it, or that I would change a thing, but I _do_ regret making things harder for you. If there were any way to have made it easier.... 

Forgive me? 

> _Just call me angel of the morning, angel._  
_Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby._

If anything, I should worry about you going to hell, and I would... if I could possibly convince myself that any sane God could do such a thing to someone with a soul as beautiful as yours. 

> _Just call me angel of the morning, angel,_  
_Then slowly turn away._  
_I won't beg you to stay with me_

How can you live an entire lifetime in twenty-four hours, Benny? How can everything that will ever mean anything be compressed into a single day and night? 

> _Through the tears,_  
_All the days, all the years._

I felt like this when I lost Irene. But you were there for me then. I had lost the past but I still had the present, even some whisper of a future.... 

Now all I have is the past. Now I have to find a way to live the rest of my life on nothing but memories.... 

> _Baby, baby..._  
_Just call me angel of the morning, angel._  
_Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby._  
_Just call me angel of the morning, angel,_  
_Then slowly turn away from me._

_finis_

* * *

Dianne  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
-*-"Yes, it's true that I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial."-*- 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	12. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #11:

#  Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**WARNING: PG-rated, M/M situation implied.** Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," "Libera Me," any and all versions of "Last Night of the World," "What I Did for Love," and "Angel of the Morning." 

* * *

_Well, if you've been following along you know that the guys are being all noble and tragic and _stupid_... and worst of all they're not talking to each other. Well I'm sorry, but even an author who keeps churning out angst right and left can only take so much. _

So I called for reinforcements. Someone who wouldn't take any sh*t off of either of them and could whip them both into shape. 

Who else but a mom? vwg 

This was *almost* too much fun to write. I just hope, for the sake of part 12, that the guys are still talking to me. ;-) 

In keeping with the Song Cycle tradition, I used a song title for the piece-- the title fits, even though the song doesn't at all and isn't included. (It just made a better title than "Part 8"... I know, I know... long story, don't ask... ;-) 

Italian translations once again courtesy the LOGOS Dictionary (http://dictionary.logos.it/query.html) and my combination of Spanish and Latin grammar and good old BS ;-) They're at the end. 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

"Hello, Canadian Consulate, Constable Fraser speaking. Bon jour, Le Consulat du Canada...." 

"Benton?" 

"Mrs. Vecchio?" 

"Si! Benton I am so glad to find you!" 

"Mrs. Vecchio is something wrong? Has something happened to Ray?" 

"Yes, it is terrible...." 

"_What_? I mean, I'm sorry. _Please_ tell me...." 

"His heart is broken, Benton. He is in love but now something has happened and he is alone and he is miserable." 

"_Oh!_ Oh, I mean... yes, of course, I'm very sorry to hear that, but...." 

"He needs you, Benton. Why have you left?" 

"How...? Oh! Of course. Well, you see, I'm being transferred back to.... Pardon me, Mrs. Vecchio, but shouldn't you be speaking to Ray about this?" 

"He won't talk about it." 

"Oh, I see. Well I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid in this particular case I cannot be of help...." 

"I thought you were his best friend?" 

"Yes, I'd like to think so, but... Mrs. Vecchio, I'm afraid you don't completely understand the situation, and I really feel that you should be speaking to...." 

"I understand fine. He's in love with you, Benton." 

pause "He told you that?" 

"I'm his mother. He didn't have to." 

"Oh. Oh, I see...." 

"_So?_" 

"Excuse me?" 

"So, are you in love with him?" 

"I'm afraid things aren't quite that simp...." 

"Benton!" 

"Yes, ma'am, I love your son very much." 

"And you are in love with him? Like man-and-woman in love?" 

"Uh... well yes, I suppose so... however, implicit in such a statement would be...." 

"Good." 

pause "Good?" 

"Yes, 'good'. Loving someone who doesn't love you back is a tragic thing. I want my Raymondo to be happy, Benton." 

"As do I, Mrs. Vecchio...." 

"Rosa." 

"Pardon?" 

"_Rosa_. You call me 'Rosa', o.k.?" 

"I'm not sure that that's...." 

"_Benton_!" 

"Yes, Ma'a... um... 'Rosa'." 

"Buono, molto buono. Now, if you love him and you want him happy like me, then why did you leave?" 

"It's very complicated, I'm afraid...." 

"Benton, I am not stupid. Tell me what is wrong." 

"No, of course not! I didn't mean... I mean... There are... well, there are likely to be certain... consequences... of... of the love Ray and I feel for each other. There are rather strong prejudices generally held against such relationships, particularly in the law enforcement field... as well as in the teachings of the Catholic Church. In addition, I was under the impression that such was also the case, if you'll pardon my saying, in the Italian-American community at large, which is why, frankly, I was so surprised to observe your apparent casual take on the matt...." 

"Mamma mia! How do you talk so much and still say nothing? Madre di Dio!" 

"I'm sorry, Mrs... _Rosa_, I didn't mean...." 

"No, no, Benton, I know. You can't help it. Raymondo has told me this is just the way you are...." 

"He wha...?" 

"So you are worried the other Mounties will be upset?" 

"No. I'm much more concerned for Ray's career, M...Rosa, as well as for ... well, for his family's reactions. His family, his faith, and his career are the most important things in his life. I would never want him to risk any of them for me." 

"I see. So he asked you to go?" 

"Well no, but...." 

"But he agreed it was a good idea?" 

"Well, no, M...Rosa. We didn't actually discuss the matter specifically, however it was fairly clear...." 

"You two!" 

"Pardon?" 

"What a pair you are! Mamma mia, da mi pazienza!" 

"I'm afraid I don't...." 

"_Look_, Benton. All this confusion, not talking? This is very good for opera, but terrible for life, capisce?" 

"I..." 

"I want you to make me a promise, Benton." 

"A promise?" 

"Yes, a promise. A Mountie-promise so you cannot break it. I want you to promise me you will talk to my son and tell him why you are going." 

"I'm sorry, Rosa, but I can't...." 

"Yes you can. You are the one that has broken his heart, you are the one that has made my baby miserable, the least you can do is make this one little promise for me." 

"I... I...." 

"_Well?_" 

"I... " sigh "All right, Rosa. I promise I will tell him." 

"To his face, before you leave Chicago?" 

"I don't know that...." 

"_Promise._" 

"Very well. I promise. " 

"Good. You are a good man, Benton. My son has good taste." 

"I... Um... Thank you kindly...." 

"Now you go back to your work. And you remember your promise, Si?" 

"'Si.' Yes, I'll remember, Rosa." 

"Good, you be careful at work, o.k.?" 

"Yes, I will." 

"Arrivederci." 

"Yes. Goodbye...." 

* * *

"Raymondo, caro, is that you?" 

"Yeah, Ma, it's me. What are you still doing up?" 

"I'm worried about you." 

"Aw, Ma, I'm a big boy. So when are you gonna stop waiting up for me, huh?" 

"No, no, not tonight. I worry about how you are these days. You look terrible, caro." 

"Gee, thanks a lot, Ma." 

"So?" 

"So? So maybe I need more sleep... and that's where I'm going, o.k.? Buonanotte..." 

"Talk to me, caro." 

"Ma...." 

pause 

"Look, Ma, it's nothing, o.k.?" 

"No. It's not nothing and it's not o.k. Now sit down right here and tell me." 

sigh "Look it's complicated...." 

"Ai! You and your 'complicated.' Everything is always so complicated...." 

"Well it _is_!" 

"And you think your mother is too stupid...." 

"No! Ma...!" 

"Then tell me." 

pause 

"Raymondo." 

"O.k., o.k. There's... well there's this person...." 

"You're in love." 

"How...?" 

"I'm your mother, caro, I can see these things. You're in love and your heart is broken. Now tell me why." 

"Look. It didn't work out, Ma. It can't work. It's over, o.k.? End of story." 

"This one you love doesn't love you?" 

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, h... we both love each other very much. It just can't work." 

"But why? I mean you were so happy...." 

"Geez, Ma! And here I thought you kn.... " sigh "Look, if this person stayed with me it would mess up their whole life. I love them too much to do that. O.k.?" 

"Benton said that to you?" 

"No, he didn't have to.... _Ma_!" 

"What?" 

"How did we get onto Benny?" 

"That's who you're in love with, no?" 

"N...I mean... ye... I mean... _MA_!" 

"Shhhh, or you'll wake the children." 

pause 

"Well?" 

pause 

"Raymondo?" 

"Well _what_, Ma?" 

"Look at me when you're talking to me, caro." 

"How long have you... you know...." 

"Since he left the first time, maybe sooner. It was written all over your face, caro." 

"Whoa, you don't mean...!" 

"No, no. Just for a mother to see, that's all." 

"Geez, give me a heart attack, why don'tcha?" 

"So. If you are both in love, then tell me why it is over." 

"Ma, you _know_ why." 

"Have you talked to Father Behan?" 

sigh "No, Ma. I... I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I can't confess this, not as a sin. I just can't...." 

"So, who said confess? I said talk!" 

"To his _face_?" 

"Si! To his face." 

"Ma, he's a priest! I can't tell him this!" 

"He already knows." 

"What? _How..._?" 

"I told him." 

"You _WHAT_???" 

"Hush, caro... the children!" 

"You told Father Behan that I... that Benny...? How _could_ you?" 

"I was worried about you!" 

"So you... Oh I don't _believe_ this! I'm never gonna be able to show my face in that church again!" 

"He said it was all right." 

"He said _what_?" 

"I went because I was afraid, afraid you and Benton would go to hell for this. But Father Behan said love-- real love-- can be holy to God. Even if it is not with a woman. And you are in love, si?" 

pause "Si, mamma. I love him more than anything." 

"So?" 

sigh "So what, Ma? That's not the problem." 

"You are afraid of what they'll say at work." 

"No, no. Well, I mean, yeah, I am, but that's not it. I mean if I were that worried about looking good I wouldn't pis... annoy the Lieutenant every other day, right?" 

"This isn't the same." 

sigh "No, it's not. It'd be rough, I know that, but I could take it. If it meant I could have Benny I could handle anything, you know?" 

"Si, caro." 

"It's Benny that's the problem. He's a Mountie, Ma, a cop. A really good one too. I mean I'm always ridin' him about the weird stuff he pulls, but he's really one of the best, you know. If he went back to Canada he could have a real job. He could be a real Mountie again, Ma, not this sh... stuff they keep throwing at him here. I mean it's disgusting! Here he can bring in any criminal they assign him and instead they send him to pick up the dry-cleaning and stand him up on the sidewalk in the sun to see when he'll melt! How do they live with themselves, Ma?" 

"I don't know, caro." 

sigh 

"You haven't talked to him about this, have you?" 

"We didn't need to talk, Ma." 

"Yes, you do." 

"No look, it'll only make it harder...." 

"Listen to your mother, Raymondo." 

"He's already gone...." 

"He's just at the consulate." 

"I'm not gonna ask how you know that...." 

"You don't have to be a detective to find that out, caro. Now listen to me. People in love need to talk. They need to talk more than anybody else. Look at Romeo and Juliet. They didn't talk! And just look what happened!" 

laugh "We're not Romeo and Juliet, Ma!" 

"Dio mio, I _hope_ not! Now promise me you'll talk to him tomorrow." 

"Ma...." 

"Promise!" pause "For _me_, caro...." 

"Aw geez,.... O.k., o.k., I'll go talk to him, o.k.?" 

"Buono. Now give me a kiss and go to bed. You need more sleep." 

sigh "Yes, Ma...." 

_finis_

* * *

[Yup, translated word by word from Spanish again... pardon for any mangling I've done of the Italian language in the process! ;-)] 

> _Madre di Dio -- Mother of God  
Mamma mia -- my Mama ;-)  
Buono, molto buono -- good, very good  
Da mi pazienza -- give me patience  
Capisce -- understand  
Buonanotte -- goodnight  
Dio mio -- my God  
Arrivederci -- good-bye  
_

* * *

_Oh Goddess! I had *sooooooo* much fun with this... I *love* Rosa... ;-)_

Dianne  
_(Um, guys? Benny? Ray? Come on! *Talk* to me! Oh, stop pouting already. Hey! I'm gonna tell Ma on you...!!! vwg)_  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
"I have a feeling [my Muse is] not gonna let me die until I write _every_ single idea I've ever had. And she might resuscitate me after a plane crash just to redo the dialogue on something..." --CK 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



	13. Default Chapter Title

# Song Cycle #12: 

# Finis

  


**WARNING: PG-rated, M/M situation implied.** Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," "Libera Me," any and all versions of "Last Night of the World," "What I Did for Love," "Angel of the Morning," and "Matchmaker, Matchmaker." 

* * *

_Sorry this part took so long! RL and stage fright conspired to intervene... _

Well turns out the guys were at least talking to each other after that last part... and they let me overhear. 

Yeah, they're talking... "only" talking, you might say... but, let's face it-- they angsted for so long without talking, this is what they *really* needed to do. 

This is it, guys. It's been fun! I appreciate all the harassing comments and random death threats that made me finish it. I'd love to go on and see how they deal with the world, but that would take another whole cycle in itself and I've got other stuff I have to obsess on for a while now. Maybe someday, though.... 

Again, no song. What can I say... pick "Song Cycle" for a name and all the songs go bye-bye from my brain. Why is this my life??? g 

So once again and as always:   
DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# Finis 

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
_[Cat.Goddess@pobox.com][1]_**  


* * *

"Vecchio." 

"Hello, Ray." 

"Benny?" 

"I... I need to speak with you." 

"Yeah. I'll come pick you up." 

"I'd appreciate that." 

* * *

"Ray, why are we stopping." 

"We're not talking this way, are we? The lake's as good a place as any for a walk." pause "I like it here....Besides, Fuzz-face looks like he could use a run." 

"He has been cooped up in quarantine for some time now. I'm sure he'd appreciate it." 

"Hey, anytime.... _oof_ Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, you big hairball. Happy to be out of the lock-up, huh?" 

* * *

"Ray, I'm sorry about that morning. I shouldn't have just left like that." 

"Look, Benny, we both knew what would happen." 

"I'm afraid I was a coward, Ray." 

"Yeah, well you're not the one who had to talk himself out of having this conversation while you were on statue duty." 

smile "I appreciate your restraint." 

"Yeah, well you should." 

* * *

"Look, I'm the one who should be apologizing, Benny." 

"For what?" 

"For that night... I shouldn't have pushed." sigh "I should have just let you go, without giving you one more thing to regret, you know?" 

"I don't regret anything about that night, Ray." 

"No?" 

"_No._" pause "Do you...?" 

"Not a second, Benny. Not one single second...." 

* * *

"Because I know that the Catholic church is quite emphatic...." 

"Do you think what we did was a sin, Benny? Something evil and vile that's gonna end us both in Hell?" 

pause "No, Ray." 

"Yeah, well neither do I, o.k.? pause laugh Besides, Ma already cleared it with the priest." 

"...?" 

"Yeah, Ma went and told Father Behan about us and he said it was cool... as long as we were in love. pause And we were in love, Benny, weren't we?" 

"I still am, Ray." 

smile "Yeah, Benny, me too. Me too." 

* * *

"Ray, I didn't want to have to do this... I mean to have to...." 

"You don't have to say it, Benny, I know, o.k.?" 

"I'm afraid not, Ray." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean, I do have to say it. I'm afraid I... well ... I made a promise that I would tell you." 

"A prom... oh God! Ma got to you too, didn't she?" 

"She can be... well... rather determined, Ray..." 

laugh"Yeah, that's one way to put it...." 

"So I. .. well I mean to say... why I left, Ray... I...." 

"Really, Benny, it's o.k. I know. You deserve so much better...." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You're the best cop I know, Benny, and Canada's damn lucky to have you. You deserve so much better than this pathetic excuse for a job they make you do here." 

"I _like_ what I do here, Ray..." 

"Oh come on! Picking up the Dragon Lady's dry-cleaning? Playing statue all day? You deserve to go home where you can be a real cop, Benny. Back to Paulatuk or Runamukluk or wherever it is you want to be. You've got a life, Benny, and you miss home. You always have." 

"Ray, it's true that I miss Canada, and I always will, but it's not enough. " 

"Well it's got to be better than this!" 

"It _is_ more challenging than my consulate position here, Ray...." smile "But then most things are." 

"Well it's about time you admitted that!" 

"But I don't think that you understand what my posting in a place like Paulatuk actually entails, Ray...." 

"Look, Benny, I know I rag on you about Canada, but I realize you've got to be doing great things up there. Hell, you probably stopped some international drug-smuggling ring or saved an entire town single-handed, right? Because, you know, if anyone could do something like th...." 

"No, Ray." 

* * *

"Did you just _interrupt_ me?" 

"Yes, Ray, I believe I did." 

"That's _rude_!" 

"Yes, Ray, I know." 

* * *

"Well?" 

"'Well', what, Ray?" 

"Well, aren't you gonna apologize? Blush? Throw yourself on your Mountie sword or something?" 

"No, Ray." 

* * *

"Well why the hell not?" 

"You _did_ interrupt me as well, Ray." 

"Oh, so that makes it all right?" 

"Well, no, not technically...." 

"Besides, I do that all the time!" 

"I know, Ray." 

* * *

"You're _not_ gonna apologize, are you?" 

"No, Ray." 

"Geez, teach a Mountie to stand up for himself and you pay, and pay...." 

"_As_ I was saying..." 

"And _pay_, and pay...." 

* * *

"Are you finished mocking me, Ray?" 

grin "Yeah, I'm done. For now anyway. So tell me, what does the wild life of a Paulatuk posting involve, Benny?" 

"Waiting." 

"_Waiting_?" 

"In essence. There is patrolling to be done, of course. On occasion a minor scofflaw to detain, or a civilian in need of aid. But mostly it consists of waiting. Being available should something occur." smile "Not many high-speed chases, Ray." 

"Oh. Well, but that's what you get for going out in the boonies, Benny. I'm sure a post in Toronto or Ottawa or something...." 

"No." 

"No?" 

"Not yet, anyway. The... the political climate for me is still, well, rather 'cold', Ray." 

"Dammit, Benny! When is the RCMP gonna get their heads out of their goddamned...." 

"Ray! _Please._" 

sigh "Sorry. But when are they gonna realize what they've got in you? Huh?" 

* * *

"You know, when I came to Chicago, I was... well I was scared, Ray." 

"Scared?" 

"Yes. This was by far the largest city I'd ever been posted to-- and in a foreign country, no less. I knew the wilderness-- how to survive for days in sub-zero temperatures, how to track man or beast across rock, snow, and ice. But what did I know about a big city?" 

"You did just fine." 

"Thanks to you." 

"Hey, I only gave you some pointers." grin "And half the time you didn't listen to me anyway." 

"No, Ray. I _always_ listened." 

"So you mean you just made a habit of ignoring me, is that it? 

smile 

"Oh well I feel _much_ better...." grin 

* * *

"I owe quite a debt of gratitude to Leftenant Welsh, as well, of course." 

"Welsh? For what?" 

"For allowing me to work on your cases with you." 

"Oh yeah, he gets the best cop in Canada solving his cases for him for free and he's gonna be _complaining_?" 

"Well technically I don't have any jurisdiction...." 

"Not to mention he thinks he's got you baby-sitting _me_...." 

"....And for some reason, those cases in which I assist seem to somehow... well...." 

"Get really strange?" 

"Something like that, yes." 

"Look, Benny, Welsh's only problem is that he can't figure out _why_ you keep hanging around doing it. For that matter, half the time _I_ don't know why you do it." 

"Well, aside from taking advantage of the opportunity to spend time with you...." 

"Ooooh, flattery will get you everywhere, Benny...." grin 

smile "Aside, from that, Ray. It allows me to act as a police officer again. Unofficially, of course, but ...." sigh 

* * *

"But you get to be a real cop again, huh?" 

"Yes." 

"O.K., I think I get it. So, if you're having such a great time chasing down the scum of the earth in Chicago, then why the hell are you leaving? Huh?" 

"Ray, I...." 

"No." sigh "Geez, look. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...." 

"I'm leaving because of you Ray." 

"Me?" 

"Ray, I meant what I said that first morning in your car: There's nothing that would make me happier than to be with you for the rest of our lives. But I can't ask you to do that." 

"To do what?" 

"To give up everything you would have to give up for me, Ray. You have so much that's important to you, that's a part of you-- your family, your career, your faith. Being with me would put them all at risk and I can't let you do that for me." 

"Whoa! Wait a minute, Benny. _I_ decide what's worth what in my life, capisce? " 

"Ray, I only meant that...." 

"Besides, you left the most important thing off your little list. _You._" 

"Ray, I...." 

"No, _that's_ what important to me, Benny. That's what's a part of me: my family, my church, my job, and _you_. And somehow they're just gonna have to work it all out because I'm not givin' any of them up, understand? Not without one hell of a fight." 

"But, Ray...." 

"'But '_nothing_! Look, I already told you-- I can't believe we're goin' to Hell for love. And besides, if I were gonna do it, that'd definitely be the way to go, right?" grin "Ma's practically adopted you already, and she's doing everything short of passing love notes to keep us together. And if you know anything about an Italian mother, Benny, you know that's all we're gonna need." sigh "The job... well it's probably gonna be tough, I know that, but I can take it, o.k.? Believe me, you're worth any stupid-ass comments I get there." 

"It's not just comments, Ray." 

"No, it'll probably be 'fag' jokes and condoms on my desk too, but I can live with it. O.k.?" 

"What if you can't?" 

"I can, Benny...." 

"I mean what if it affects the way they see you. The way they support you." 

"Benny...." 

"What if you call for backup one day and it's late, Ray? Late because of who you choose to love? What if... . I don't think I could live with that, Ray...." 

"Benny... Hey, _look_ at me. Welsh may be many things, but he's a good cop, a good boss. Whatever he thinks about this-- about us-- he's not gonna put up with shit like that. Trust me, o.k.?" 

"Ray...." 

"Besides, who's always my back-up anyway?" 

"Well, depending on the current duty roster...." 

"_You_ are, Benny. O.K.? With you watching my back life may get damned weird, but at least I know I'm covered. So stop worrying, o.k.? I've got Ma to do that already, remember?" 

* * *

"Rosa only wants you to be happy, Ray." 

"'Rosa'? You call my mother 'Rosa' now?" 

blush "Well... she insisted, Ray." 

* * *

"Wow." 

"Wow?" 

"Yeah, wow. That's what she told Angie the day we got engaged." 

"Oh. Wow." 

grin "Yeah, Benny. Wow." 

_finis-- yes, for real ;-)_

* * *

_TYK, all! ;-)_

Dianne  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com][2]  
Vanity Web Page-- [http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/][3]  
-*-"Eeeeeeeeek. This is my official response." -- Boo -*- 

   [1]: mailto:Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
   [2]: mailto:cat.goddess@pobox.com
   [3]: http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/



End file.
